Over the summer between first and second seasons, Anya McLerie got tired of 
the constant whinging for Buffy/Xander fic, and decided to prove that such a 
thing could only come about if both Angel and Willow were removed from the 
picture -- and how much that would suck. She did so by writing a short little fic 
called "Gone..." (http://www.slayerette.org/fanfic/anya/g.html), which left 
everyone crying helplessly on the floor and begging for sequels. Rather than 
do so herself (initially), she opened up a challenge for anyone to write 
whatever sequel they deemed necessary. I answered with the short fic 
"To Let You Go" (http://www.neon-hummingbird.com/storyteller/fiction/ 
buffy_tolet.html), which I had intended to follow up with an epic fic, namely, 
"The Long Thunder." I started witing on November 7, 1997, I got a good way 
into it before Joss simply wore me down -- too many of the things I was 
writing no longer had any place in Buffy canon. About the same time, canon 
Xander had me so fed up with him that I had trouble watching his scenes, much 
less writing him; meanwhile, I was beginning to love Spike far too much to be 
happy writing him as a villain (and I wasn't good enough at the time to strike a 
balance). So, "The Long Thunder" fell to the wayside.

It was a good idea, and a good story; it's one of the few unfinished fics I regret 
that I will never finish. I did some good things with Cordy and Xander, and 
Nina is one of my favorite OCs. But the rest of it is never gonna happen. If you 
want to know where I was going with it, and some of the background I hit at, 
drop me a line. But don't ask me to finish it, because that won't happen.   

**= indicates the beginning and end of the flashbacks which begin each chapter.

*****
The Long Thunder
by Perri Smith (perri@neon-hummingbird.com)
Copyright 1998-2004

"It's brief and bright, dear children, bright and brief
Delight's the lightning, the long thunder's grief."
	-- 'Days of our Years', John Frederick Nims

*****
Prologue
*****

Watcher Diary -- Rupert Giles
September 5, 1997

At last we have heard from Willow and Angel, but the news is not good -- the 
Romani were unable to cure Willow. At best, she will keep her soul; at worst....

Angel spoke only to Xander, who is... not taking the news well. Not that that is 
a change. Buffy has grown more intent on her work; Xander simply grows 
more distant by the day. Only with Buffy does he seem truly... here with us.

Perhaps I should have told them, from the beginning. But how should I have 
done it? Simply drawn them aside their first day back from vacation and told 
them, "The Anointed One attacked Willow when we were not watching; he 
drained her blood and injected his into her stomach. We do not know what she 
is now, or what she is becoming, or even what will happen to her soul. And so 
she left, and Buffy, the man you have been falling in love with left with her, and 
neither of them will be coming back."

Impossible. All of this, impossible.

Willow, Angel, my heart is with you both. I pray you will stay safe, and happy 
if you can, and I pray... I pray you will return to us one day.

*****
*****
Part 1
*****

**"I... Tell her.... Tell her.... I'm not sorry. That the only thing I'll ever be sorry 
for is that there wasn't enough time. And that I never saw her in the sunlight."

"Yeah. I'll tell her. If Willow... When she's better, tell her I.... That she's my best 
friend, and she always will be. That I'll be here."

"I'll tell her." **

*****

The picture was of the three of them, Xander and Buffy and Willow. The 
Slayerettes.

It had been taken their only spring together, before everything went to hell. 
They were piled together on the ground, laughing up at the camera someone 
held. Funny; he could remember every detail of that day -- the wild game of 
tag around the park, somehow managing to catch both of the girls 
simultaneously, the subsequent tickle war that had left them on the grass too 
happily exhausted to move any more than necessary.  He could remember 
Buffy's smile, the way Willow's hair had fallen around them like a curtain, the 
feel of both of them in his arms.

But he had no idea who'd taken the picture. 

It could have been Mrs. Summers -- but no. It had been a Saturday, he thought, 
and the gallery would have been open. His parents, or Willow's, maybe? Not 
Cordelia; he was pretty sure of that. 

Hell, it could have been Giles, for all he knew; the Watcher had had a habit of 
turning up where there was fun happening, mostly to spoil it with dire 
warnings and prophecies. Sometimes, they'd managed to distract him from 
Duty, but most of the time, they'd failed dismally. No, it probably hadn't been 
Giles.

Did it really matter now? It had been eighteen years. Buffy had been gone for 
fourteen of those, Giles for six. He was the only one left, now. 

The only one.

"Mr. Harris? Xander?" His head waitress poked her head around the office 
door he'd left cracked. Her blonde hair was falling into her face, as usual, but 
her bright smile was firmly in place. "The crowd is picking up; Danny says he 
needs some help behind the bar."

Xander blinked and tore his eyes from the picture hanging above his desk, 
hiding a pile of books under a pile of papers as he swiveled his desk chair 
around to face her. "Thanks, Lori, I'll be right out."

She nodded, but instead of leaving, came a little farther into the room, her gaze 
going past him to the picture, which stood between Giles' wedding photo, and 
the one of Giles with Xander and Buffy at graduation. "Who are they?" she 
asked quietly, her smile taking on more than a hint of sympathy. "I've 
wondered, but... You looked so sad when I came in."

Xander looked at the picture again, letting his eyes track over Buffy's face, 
Willow's smile, one more time. Then he stood, turning his back on them. "They 
were friends; they... died a long time ago." He rubbed the back of his neck, then 
forced a smile. "We'd better go rescue Danny before the kids finally succeed in 
their hostile takeover."

Lori grinned. "If they haven't pulled it off yet, they won't do it tonight."

"Hey, you never can tell," Xander cracked, holding the door open for her, then 
turning out the lights and locking it behind them. "Half of everything is timing; 
they might have been planning behind the scenes, ready to strike when our 
backs are turned."

"You're paranoid," Lori informed him.

Xander smiled, rubbing the back of his neck again -- the tension had settled in 
there permanently in the last six years -- and tried not to look back at his office, 
and the knowledge he would have paid anything not to have to deal with. "You 
have no idea," he replied softly, his fingers touching the chain around his neck.

"No idea at all."

*****

The Slayer strolled casually along the sidewalks of her hometown, just having a 
relaxing evening, minding her own business, not looking for any trouble.

Yeah, right, like there was any vampire in the world that was going to believe 
that one. Sure as heck not the three who'd been tailing her for the last five 
minutes.

Nina shifted her backpack from her right shoulder to her left, both to free her 
right arm for a fight, and to cover the movement as she oh-so-casually pulled 
two stakes from the inside pocket of her leather jacket, the one especially made 
to conceal weaponry. She grinned in anticipation, with a light in her eyes that 
would have worried the hell out of her Watcher if he'd seen it. 

"You're not supposed to *enjoy* your work this much," he'd informed her 
about ten thousand times. "It's supposed to scare you."

"So what's wrong with a little confidence?" she'd shoot back, at which point 
he'd give her a glare and go into one of his patented, 'You are not invisible, 
invulnerable or immortal' speeches. Loads of fun.

But her Watcher wasn't here right now, so Nina was free to enjoy herself. 
Which she did, timing her moves so carefully that she spun and planted the first 
stake in the vampire's heart just as he got close enough to go for her neck. He 
doubled over with a look of utter surprise on his face, right before he exploded 
into dust. 

Nina closed her eyes to protect them from icky vampire residue, then popped 
them back open in time to meet the other two vamps, who were apparently 
smarter than their buddy -- they rushed her together.

Of course, it would have been even smarter just to stay clear of her altogether. 
A squirt of holy water in the face of one got him out of the way long enough to 
do the kick, punch, stake thing to his partner. The second vamp recovered 
faster than she'd expected, though; he got her from behind and tackled her to 
the ground. She felt her jeans rip against the pavement and groaned mentally. 
But a knee to the stomach, one more stake, and the deed was done.

Nina brushed dust off her hands and jacket, inspected the new hole in her 
jeans, and retrieved her backpack from the ground, where it had landed after 
being thrown in the face of Vamp Number Two -- or was it Three? Didn't 
matter, they were all incredibly beyond caring. 

"Score three for me, none for you," she told them carelessly as she turned away 
from the mess --

--and almost ran down the guy who'd materialized behind her.

"Dammit!" she yelped, stepping backwards to regain her balance and groping 
instinctively for a stake; anyone who moved that quietly was immediately 
suspect. But the guy who'd surprised her didn't move, just stood there, 
unthreatening.

"Sorry," he offered quietly, hands, face and eyes still, shoulders hunched 
slightly, as if to disguise the fact that he was eight inches taller than she was. "I 
didn't mean to scare you."

"If you don't want to scare people, then don't sneak up on them," she told him 
icily, tightening her grip on the stake hidden against her sleeve and trying to 
figure out how long he'd been there. If he'd seen her staking the vamps, her 
Watcher was going to wig.

"Sorry," the man -- he seemed just old enough to count as a man, although he 
didn't look to be much into college -- repeated evenly, with the slightest edge 
of humor to his voice. "Old habits die hard."

"Work harder at killing them. Somewhere else." Nina tried to stalk past him, 
but he didn't take the hint and get out of her way. Instead, he caught her arm.

"You've got bigger problems than me coming," he told her, all humor gone 
from his voice. Nina stopped pulling against his grip, which was stronger than 
she'd expected, and looked up at him, caught by the utter seriousness of his 
tone. She couldn't make out much of his face in the dim light, but got the 
impression of dark hair and eyes, and a darker expression.

"Problems like what? Midterms are about all I can take right now."

If anything, the weak joke seemed to make him more intense. "The Ascension. 
It's in three days.  Watch your back and don't play any games -- because the 
vampires won't be playing either. None of them can afford to lose this time."

"Why?" she asked, her voice a little less steady than she would have liked. 
"What's the prize?"

"The end of the world," he answered simply. "Starting on the Hellmouth."

*****

The Bronze was crowded, as usual; the band Xander had hired was made up 
entirely of high schoolers, but they knew what they were doing. There was 
only the occasional screech of an overloaded, outdated amp, the rare crack of 
an adolescent voice trying for a note that was just not within reach. Xander 
couldn't say the music was what he would have chosen, but he could live with 
it, and the kids liked it. And there was the stereo system for afterhours.

Danny looked up with relief as Xander slid behind the bar next to him and 
started passing out cappuccinos. For a while, the coffee trade had been almost 
non-existent, but the kids had decided it was now retro, and therefore cool, 
which never failed to amuse Xander. 

The kids were the best part about owning the Bronze, one of the two reasons 
he never regretted mortgaging his soul to buy the club when the old owners 
had finally gotten smart and decided to leave Sunnydale. The energy and 
enthusiasm, the endless possibilities -- the times when he felt way older than 35, 
he could look at them and remember better days.

The other reason bopped up to the bar about an hour later, as things started 
slowing down again. "Hi, Teach," Nina Vega chirped, settling herself at a stool 
on the bar.

Xander tried to glare at the teenager, but couldn't hold back his grin. "Watch 
that 'Teach' stuff in public," he warned, sliding a bowl-sized cup of double-
mocha, extra foam, in front of her. 

She drained half of it in one swallow, then wiped the foam from her mouth. "As 
if anyone can hear us over the music," she pointed out.

"Better safe than sorry," Xander informed her, trying not to wince at how much 
he sounded like Giles. Some things were just unavoidable. He skimmed his 
eyes over her professionally, noting the messed-up hair, the dirt on her shirt 
and the rip in her jeans that hadn't been there after school. "You did some 
hunting."

Nine nodded, taking a smaller sip of her mocha this time. A couple of guys her 
age at the other end of the bar gave her the eye, but she was oblivious. Xander 
had sympathy -- Nina had her mom's pretty features, long legs and exotic 
Latina coloring, combined with the athletic body of a girl who worked out like 
her life depended on it, which it did. But he still sent a warning glare towards 
the boys, on general principles. They suddenly became very busy looking 
somewhere else. 

"A couple vamps downed on me outside the school," Nina was saying casually. 
"Not a problem."

"That's the third ambush in a week," Xander mused, wiping down the surface 
of the bar. "This is not a Good Thing; I wish you'd be more careful at night."

Nine shrugged. "Maybe it has something to do with this Ascension thing. I 
mean, if something big is about to go down, I figure they're kinda going to 
want to get me out of the way first."

Xander froze. "I haven't told you about that deal yet; I just found out about it 
tonight. How did you....?" He nailed her with a glare. "Neen, have you been 
having conversations with vampires before you stake them again?"

"No!" The young Slayer looked offended, then sheepish. "Well, not much. No, 
this weird guy told me about it; pulled me off the street on the way back here. I 
almost staked him before he could get a word out."

'Weird guy.' Her choice of words hit Xander like a brick. For a moment, the 
club faded out around him and he was out on the dance floor, his arm around a 
pretty redhead, watching the Slayer.... 

**'That must be Angel, I think.' 

'That weird guy, who warned her about all the vampires?'

'That's him, I'll bet you.'**

"No," he breathed, shaking his head as if he could shake the voices away. Then 
he laughed at himself. Stupid; there was no way. It had been eighteen years.

"What?" Nina was looking at him with exasperation written all over her 15-
year-old face. "Why do you look so bailed?"

But then, you never knew, this being Sunnydale and all.... 

"Um, did this... weird guy, by any strange, remote chance, wear black and 
white, and look like the cover of one of your teeny magazines?" Xander asked 
carefully.

Nina shrugged. "Yeah, I guess. Not my type, but highly cute, from what I could 
see. Why, do you know him?"

He almost didn't hear her over the rushing in his ears.  He had to lean against 
the bar to keep from staggering as long-suppressed memories flooded back. 

**'That must be Angel, I think.'

'Can a vampire ever be a good person? Couldn't it happen?'

'At the end of the day, I pretty much think you're a vampire.'

'Angel is with her.  He will not leave her. '

'I'll take care of her, Xander, I swear on my soul.'** 

"Oh, God." Xander shook his head, trying to clear it, trying to think. The 
Ascension, Nina, vampires.... But his mind kept persistently circling back to one 
thought. If Angel was back, then maybe.....

"Where did you see him?" he demanded, leaning over the bar towards the girl. 
"What part of town?"

Nina looked puzzled. "The school library, on the way here. Why, who is he? 
You look like you just saw a ghost."

"Yeah," Xander said absently, "the Ghost of Slayers Past." He made an abrupt 
decision and yelled to Danny, "I'm leaving for a while. If I'm not back by 
closing, you're in charge."

Before his bartender could object, he'd gotten around the bar and was heading 
for the door, Nina tagging close behind. "Xander, what's going on?" she 
demanded, elbowing past a group of dancers. Xander heard them protest, but 
Nina apparently didn't care. "Are we going hunting?"

"Yeah," Xander said through his teeth. "We're hunting Cryptic Guys."

*****
*****
Part Two
*****

**The two teenagers went through the doors of the church carefully, on guard. 
"This is a really bad idea," the boy said, in the tone of someone who's said it 
before and doesn't expect to be listened to this time, either.

"And this is news how?" the girl shot back without even looking at him

"Buffy, this Spike guy is trouble. If he's doing some kind of ritual, who knows 
what he's up to? I mean, we could be talking magic, or human sacrifice, or 
reruns of Jerry Springer! I'm just saying, we should wait for Kendra and Giles."

The girl shook her head impatiently. "We don't have time for that. Spike's 
going to be concentrating on Dru-whatsername, on doing the magic thing to 
cure her. That means he'll be too busy to pay any attention to me. When I kill 
him."

"Dammit, Buffy, this isn't a game!" The boy caught her arm, forcing her around 
to look at him. She could have broken free with barely more than a motion, 
but didn't. "I know you're pissed at Spike for killing the Anointed One before 
you got the chance, but getting yourself killed being stupid isn't going to get 
you your revenge. All it's going to get you is dead!"

"... If you're so scared, then wait here for Giles and Kendra. I've got an 
appointment to keep."

"No." The boy's eyes were far older than his face. "We're in this together.. You 
know that."

"Than come on. We haven't got all night." The girl kept walking into the church; 
after a moment, the boy followed, his face determined and his young-old eyes 
terrified.**

*****

Some things in Sunnydale never changed. People still stayed off the streets at 
night, unless they were suicidal, or teenagers too stupid or too cocky to believe 
in their own mortality. But there were a lot less people, and teenagers, in 
Sunnydale these days, and, since all of the teenagers were spending their 
evening at the Bronze, the streets were nearly empty as Xander and Nina ran 
towards the library.

And ran was the right word; despite all of the Slayer's gifts, Nina had to really 
work to keep up with Xander. He had the expression on his face she normally 
associated with pronouncements of 'Someone's going to die in the near future' 
-- the focused, determined look that warned everyone in the vicinity to get out 
of his way.

Nina had learned to respect that expression over the last eight months, but 
she'd never gotten used to seeing it. Most of the time, Xander was really easy-
going; not exactly a bubbling fount of cheerfulness, but laid-back and relaxed, 
and always ready with a joke to lighten things up. The only times she'd ever 
seen him like this, death and destruction had been imminent, and they weren't 
tonight. She didn't think.

"You know," she said as she caught up to Xander, the rhythm of her footsteps 
chopping her words into isolated chunks, "the guy I talked to is probably long 
gone. I mean, why would he still be hanging around, especially considering the 
vampires and stuff?"

"That's a chance I've got to take," Xander answered without looking at her. "I 
have to find them."

"Um, him," Nina corrected carefully. "One guy, singular."

Xander shook his head. "They'll be together; he promised he wouldn't leave 
her. If he's here, so is she."

"He who? *She* who?" Nina demanded yet again. Yet again, Xander didn't 
answer. Nina gritted her teeth and followed him, resisting the urge to tackle 
him and torture answers out of him. 

To her complete non-surprise, the school was still and quiet when they pulled 
up, panting. All of the teachers had long since gone home; all of the students, 
including Nina, had disappeared the second last bell rang. Xander headed 
straight for the library and Nina followed patiently, waiting for him to concede 
that she was right.

"Dammit!" he finally shouted, kicking at the side of the school building in 
frustration. Nina took that as concession.

"I told you," she said, leaning against the building with her arms crossed and 
looking up at him. "Nobody here. Weird Guy probably went home, like I'd like 
to." 

"Don't call him that," Xander told her flatly, his face still set in fierce 
concentration. She shook her head, then let it fall back against the bricks in 
disgust. 

"They can't have gone far," Xander said to himself, pacing back and forth beside 
the front steps, tapping his fingers on his jacket like always. He never did know 
what to do with his hands when he wasn't pouring coffee or fighting. "We got 
here too fast, so they still have to be somewhere nearby. Where would they 
go...?"

His head shot up, his eyes blindly intense again. "Of course!"

Nina rolled her eyes and sighed heavily as Xander took off again. "This is fun," 
she muttered sarcastically under her breath, but followed. There was no telling 
what trouble he'd get into on his own; besides, someone might need to call the 
psych ward just any time now.

A few more blocks of running; it was only two before Nina was sure of where 
they were headed. The cemetery was her favorite hunting grounds, after all, a 
guaranteed place to track down the recently undeceased. Xander scaled the 
fence easily, dropping like a cat to the ground behind it, and Nina followed suit, 
then tagged along behind him.

She wasn't really surprised at where they wound up; Xander had come here 
almost every month for as long as she'd known him. There were still flowers 
on the grave from his last visit, yellow roses faded almost to brown, nearly 
invisible against the ground. There was just enough light to read the stone, 
even if Nina hadn't known it by heart.

Buffy Summers
January ??, 1981- January 1, 2002
"Fair as a star, when only one is shining in the sky"

Xander knelt at the grave, running his fingers over the deepset lettering, his 
face set and grim. Nina kept her distance and her silence, not sure of what was 
going on, and not sure she wanted to know. She didn't think Xander was even 
aware of her presence any more.

She knew who was buried here; Xander had brought her here a few months 
after she'd been Chosen, when she'd made the mistake of blowing off training. 
He'd told her about his old friend from high school, the Slayer who'd come 
before her. About how Buffy had fought vampires and every other gross and 
disgusting thing that came to the Hellmouth, risking her life to keep everyone 
else safe.  How she'd taken one too many risks, and died still fighting, giving 
her life to keep Xander and their friends safe.

It had made for a pretty impressive object lesson. They'd come out here 
together twice since -- once on the day Buffy had been born, once on the day 
she'd died. And every time Nina was in the cemetery on business, she made it a 
point to stop by her predecessor's grave. For luck, if nothing else.

But stopping by to say 'Hi' was a little different than kneeling obliviously in the 
middle of the night. "Xander?" Nina said quietly. "Teach, this isn't exactly a safe 
place to be hanging. And whoever you were looking for, I don't think they're 
here."

"They will be," Xander said, after a long moment, looking up at her as if he'd 
forgotten she was there. "They wouldn't come home without coming to see 
Buffy. There's no way she would."

"How sweet." The hissing voice came from behind them; Nina spun, reaching 
for a stake and making damn sure she was in front of Xander. Her heart 
stopped when she realized that yes, the speaker was a vampire -- and he'd 
brought about ten of his friends. They smiled at her toothily, game faces on 
and ready for action.

"Crap," Xander cursed behind her, fumbling a stake out of his jacket. 

The vampire who'd spoken, a tall guy who'd probably been Italian before he'd 
been demon food, smiled widely and scarily. "Come to pay your respects to the 
dearly departed Slayer?"

"How convenient," another vampire, this one a blond woman, laughed. "We 
can bury them right next to each other. Won't even have to pay for a hearse."

"You're right, we won't," Nina shot back. "All we're gonna need is a 
DustBuster."

There was a sudden scuffle behind her; she turned again in time to see two 
vampires go after Xander, grabbing him by the arms.

The lead vampire's smile grew broader, if possible. "One down," he said 
smugly, "Spike said you'd be easy prey. Get the girl," he ordered carelessly, as 
fangs descended towards Xander's neck.

Nina automatically tensed to interfere -- then relaxed and imitated the vamp's 
grin instead. Oh, were they were in for a shock.

Even after years of training, she couldn't quite follow Xander's quick 
movement, but it left one of the vamps holding him on the ground in a pain-
racked heap. The other vamp got an elbow in the face that knocked him back 
several feet. The first vampire tried to get up and Xander kicked him in the 
face, at the same time that he planted his stake in the second vamp's heart. 
Poof.

"Xander!" As the first vampire started to get up again, Nina flipped one of her 
stakes to Xander. He caught it and slammed it home in the same motion. 
Another one bit the dust, and Xander settled back into stance beside and 
slightly behind the Slayer.

"Two against ten," he said consideringly, not even slightly out of breath. The 
vamp leader looked pissed, but then, Xander didn't exactly sound filled with 
goodwill. "Pretty even odds. I don't know when you talked to Spike," he said 
the unfamiliar name with utter loathing, "or what he told you, but he lied. You 
ready, Neen?"

She couldn't see his face, but she knew, just *knew* he was wearing the same 
'Go ahead, make my day' expression that she was. And he wondered where 
she'd learned it. "I'm always ready, Teach, you know that."

"Then you're ready to die." The vampire lunged forward even as he got out the 
last of the required banter. Nina met his charge with a spinkick, which he 
ducked -- and came up directly into Xander's right cross. Nina planted a stake 
before he got his balance back. "Nice shot, Teach," she threw over her shoulder. 
"Thanks."

"Less talk, more fight," Xander advised tersely, flipping another vampire over 
his shoulder into the small pond behind him. Two more vamps went for his 
back and Nina found three more at her throat. She took one down with a 
backfist and a stake, but two more took its place. For all their attitude, the odds 
were definitely not good. 

Someone went for her feet and she jumped over the kick, but landed off 
balance, stumbling back against Buffy Summers' gravestone. "I could use a little 
help here," she informed her predecessor, panting. "Divine intervention, if 
you've got any."

"Not for you," the blonde she-vamp informed her, getting a handful of Nina's 
hair and pulling. Nina fought the grip, twisting enough to slam the toe of one 
sneaker-clad foot into the blonde's gut. The vampire stumbled and a shadow 
lunged out of the darkness behind her. 

The blond's face went frozen with shock, then she abruptly disintegrated. 

"Wha--?" The weight on her head gone, Nina looked up at the dark-haired 
stranger she'd met earlier in the evening. 

"Just like old times," he commented easily, offering a crooked half-smile and a 
hand up.

Nina took it. "Way to use that sneakiness, dude," she panted. A cry from behind 
her got her attention and she lunged past the stranger. "Xander!"

Sure enough, he had three vamps on him. One turned to dust as she watched, 
but the other two piled on, trying to carry him to the ground. He fought them 
grimly, fangs already going for his neck. Nina started for him a dead run -- but 
before she could get three feet, another form appeared out of the darkness. 
This one was slight and small, but held a stake and knew what to do with it. A 
shout and a snarl, and there was one less enemy.

The five remaining vampires took a look at the abruptly evened odds, and 
showed more intelligence than Nina generally gave them credit for.

They took off running like the hounds of hell were after them.

"Wow." Nina watched them go, waiting for the adrenaline to subside and the 
throbbing in her head to stop. "That was fun. Nice timing," she informed the 
two new arrivals.

"Our pleasure," the man returned easily.

"Our timing should be pretty good, after this long." The other stranger stepped 
into the dim light from the streetlamps outside the fence; the light caught red 
hair and a girl's face that looked barely older than Nina's. A familiar face, 
somehow, but not really all that impressive.

Xander made a strangled noise that might have been a curse or a moan. Nina's 
eyes snapped to him; he was staring at the girl, his face blank with shock, as if... 
As if he was looking at a ghost. Or a dream.

"Will?" he choked out, as if it took a physical effort. "Willow?"

The girl took a step towards him, but broke the motion off abruptly. Her face 
was hard to read, deliberately so, but Nina could see something working in her 
eyes. Something like... fear?

"It's me, Xander," the girl answered quietly, in a light soprano voice that 
couldn't belong to anyone older than seventeen.

"Will." It seemed to be all Xander was capable of saying. "I don't believe it."

"Believe it," she shrugged, a tentative smile touching her lips. "It really is me."

Xander's face was still blank, wiped clean of emotion. The girl's smile flickered 
and faded, and she started to step back towards the guy....

And Xander lunged forward, catching the girl around the waist and crushing 
her to him in an enormous bear hug, almost a full foot off the ground. She 
cried out once, startled, then returned the embrace, throwing her arms around 
Xander's shoulders and burying her face in his neck.

Nina watched with open-mouthed shock.  Beside her, Weird Guy stood quietly, 
an odd, faintly twisted smile on his face. "Are you going to tell me what's going 
on?" Nina asked him after a long second of shock.

He shook his head. "No."

Nina sighed. "Great." Carefully, she settled herself on the grass beside Buffy's 
grave and waited for Xander to get a grip on something other than the 
redhead. From the looks of things, it would be a long wait.

*****
*****
Part Three
*****

**They stood by the grave, silently staring down at the gravestone at their feet. 
Neither seemed to be aware of the rain that dripped down the boy's leather 
jacket, and soaked into the fine wool of the man's long coat. Several feet away, 
a dark-haired woman waited patiently, her face sober.

"You're leaving, then?" the man said, his British accent heavy and slow. "There's 
nothing I can do to change your mind?"

"Sorry, Giles." The boy didn't look up from the grave. "Slaying is Kendra's gig 
now, right?"

"Yes," the man nodded. "I spoke to Sam yesterday. They're both aware of the 
situation."

"Then you don't need me anymore." The boy's face was grim -- no longer quite 
a boy's, but not quite a man's yet. "And god knows there's nothing here 
anymore." 

"You could come with us," the man suggested, not as if he thought it would do 
any good. "Jenny and I... Well, I'll undoubtedly be assigned a new potential 
Slayer soon."

"A new Slayer?" The boy's laugh was harsh and bitter. "Just like that. Buffy's 
dead, let's find someone else to replace her? Sorry, Giles, it's not that easy for 
me."

"Do you think it's that easy for me?" Giles demanded, his voice suddenly sharp. 
"Do you think I don't wake up every morning praying this has all been some 
dreadful nightmare, that she'll come striding into the house and tease me about 
my wardrobe? Do you think I wouldn't give my own life if I thought it would 
bring her back?"

The boy looked up for the first time; what he saw in the man's face made his 
eyes soften with regret and shame. "No. I'm sorry, Giles."

The man visibly fought for control and won. When he spoke again, his voice 
was careful and precise. "Buffy is dead. We cannot change that. But the work 
she did is still with us, and I have a job to do. I would ask for your... help. I have 
lost a... I lost two daughters that night, Xander." The man's head bowed, as if he 
was too tired to hold it up any longer. "I do not wish to lose my son as well."

The boy swallowed hard, his eyes suddenly very young again. "You're not 
going to lose me, Giles. But this..." He gestured widely. "I need to be away from 
this. I need... I can't do this any more, Giles."

The man nodded finally. "I understand, Xander. And I wish you well."

"Thanks." The boy's hand came down on the man's shoulder, and they stood 
silently. At their feet, the rain fell softly on the gravestone.**

*****

For eighteen years, this moment had haunted Willow Rosenburg's dreams. The 
day she could return to Sunnydale, the day she could see Xander again -- the 
day she could be home again.

The dream had taken a lot of different forms over the years -- fantasies, 
sometimes, of Xander's kiss and vow of undying love. Those had mostly come 
in the first years, replaced later by the nightmares of Xander not even 
recognizing her. Or worse, recognizing her and turning away.

But she had been the one who almost didn't recognize him; she hadn't been 
sure who the man fighting beside the Slayer was until she'd seen his eyes, seen 
them fill with confusion and amazement and shock and, finally, love. Then 
she'd been sure, then she'd known it was Xander.

She hadn't dreamed of him being so tall, being strong enough to sweep her 
easily up, his arms holding her with careless strength above the ground. In her 
dreams, his shoulders hadn't been so broad under her arms, or his hair so short 
under her fingers, but it didn't matter. She buried her face in his neck and clung 
to him.

She was with Xander. She was finally home. 

Her breath was catching on sobs when his arms finally loosened and he let her 
slide back down to the ground. But he didn't let her go, just slid his hands up 
her arms to cup her face, studying her, tears glimmering in his eyes. She smiled 
up at him, seeing the lines that 18 years had carved around those eyes. 

There were no lines around her eyes, and never would be.

"You cut your hair."

The sobs caught on a giggle; trust Xander to state the obvious first. "Yeah. A 
long time ago." She could still remember Angel's face when he'd come home, 
and found her on the floor of the dark room with the scissors, on the 
anniversary of the first year they'd left. He'd been so angry.... Angry and 
scared, and sad, like always. "Why? Do you hate it?"

"No!" he answered instantly, and, for a second, was the same old Xander, 
fumbling for a smooth comeback. "I just... it's short."

"Yeah." She smoothed the chin-length strands out of her face. Her fingers 
brushed his hand, still cupping her cheek; they clung and held. "I missed you."

He half-smiled, still looking deeply into her eyes. "Yeah. Me, too."

She could have happily stood like that forever, just looking at Xander and 
basking in his smile, if a throat hadn't been cleared a few feet away. 

"Um, I'm all for happy reunions," the young Slayer said pointedly, with all the 
patience of a teenager forced to point out the obvious to oblivious adults, "but 
we are still in the middle of the graveyard in the middle of Sunnydale in the 
middle of the night.  Which was a Bad Thing the last time I looked."

Xander blinked and looked over at the girl as if he'd forgotten she was there. 
"Neen? Oh, right." He focused abruptly, stepping away from Willow. She was 
disappointed when he dropped his hand, until he closed it around hers. "We 
should probably find someplace better to talk, yeah."

The Slayer rolled her eyes. "Brilliant deduction, Teach. Does that mean we can 
go now?"

"Watch it," Xander warned her, without much heat. She grinned up at him, 
obviously deeply impressed.

Willow suddenly realized who was missing and looked around for Angel. She 
found him right where she should have expected, and her heart clenched as she 
remembered.

He was kneeling in front of a grave, tracing his fingertips slowly over the 
engraved letters. 'Buffy Summers 1981-2001'. Her throat closed a little as she 
read the quote, and she blinked back tears of loss, and of regret. Always 
regret....

"You?" she asked Xander quietly, reluctant to disturb Angel.

Xander shook his head, his face sober. "Giles found the words. I asked Mrs. 
Summers to put them on."

"They're perfect," Willow whispered. Angel didn't appear to hear them; his eyes 
never moved from the grave in front of him. His face was blank, but Willow 
knew him -- she could see the grief in the set of his shoulders, the bitter pain 
shuttered deep in his eyes. It had been so easy to pretend they'd never seen the 
obituary, that Buffy was still out there, somewhere.....

She reluctantly dropped Xander's hand to kneel next to Angel, touching him 
gently on the shoulder. "Angel?"

He didn't acknowledge her, didn't look up. His fingers kept moving, tracing 
the letters over and over. She laid her head on his shoulder, trying to force the 
tears back. One of them had to be strong, and it was her turn.

"Angel?" she tried again, brushing a piece of hair off of his face. 

He still didn't look up, but he did hear her this time. "How?" he asked simply. 

"She was fighting a vampire who was trying to use the millennium to open the 
Hellmouth, destroy the world. The usual gig. She stopped him, but it cost her. 
It cost all of us." Xander's face was composed, his voice horribly off-hand; there 
was a lot more to the story.

Angel heard it, too; he finally looked up, his gaze demanding answers. "How?" 
he repeated.

Xander shook his head, glancing once at the Slayer, who'd been following the 
conversation with avid eyes and ears. "Long story. Tell you later."

The Slayer wrinkled her nose and turned her back on them with a flounce. But 
for all the adolescent theatrics, she never lowered the stake she held with casual 
competence in her right hand.

Angel looked one last time at the grave, then stood, running his fingers over 
the cool stone. Willow kissed her fingertips and let them trail behind Angel's, 
giving her own greetings and farewells to the girl she only dimly remembered 
now. 

Her eyes were dry when she turned back to Xander. "Where should we go?"

Xander shrugged. "My place, I guess."

"Danny's going to kill if you're not back to help close," the Slayer informed him.

"I'm the boss. He'll get over it."  Xander extended his hand to Willow; she took 
it and followed him past the graves towards the street. Angel and the Slayer 
followed behind silently.

The silence didn't last long; the Slayer had apparently had enough of being 
patient. "So, what's the deal?" she asked, bouncing up the sidewalk to fall into 
step beside Xander and Willow. "Who are you guys, anyway? I don't know 
you from school," she informed Willow.

"No, you don't," Willow confirmed, with a sad smile at the thought of 
Sunnydale High. 

"Willow's a friend from *my* school days," Xander explained, tightening his 
grip on her hand. Willow grinned and leaned her head against his shoulder, joy 
at being back with him blowing away the lingering sadness. "We grew up 
together, way back in the Dark Ages before you were born."

Nina's eyes were narrowed as she studied Willow. "Well, that's cool and all, but 
she doesn't *look* old."

"Oh, thank you." Xander's eyes rolled in disgust.

"It's kind of another long story," Willow intervened, stifling a giggle. 

"Well, I better get to hear this one," the Slayer grumbled, then jerked a thumb 
over her shoulder in Angel's direction. "And what's his story?"

"He's a vampire," Xander answered automatically, then winced.

It was too late; the Slayer had stopped dead still. "A vampire?" she repeated 
carefully. "Do I have to kill him?"

"No!" Willow and Angel said, at the same time that Xander said, "Sure, go 
ahead." Willow elbowed Xander a bit harder than she'd intended and he 
staggered, but didn't stop grinning. Angel just groaned without taking his 
hands out of his pockets, lifting his eyes to the sky. 

For a second, it was just like old times.

"No, you don't have to kill him," Xander amended, rubbing his ribs. "He's... a 
good guy." To his credit, it didn't look like saying the words hurt. Much.

The Slayer studied Angel up and down. "So, they come in different flavors. 
That's new." She grinned suddenly. "Cool."

"Angel's... kind of an exception to the rules," Willow explained, carefully 
avoiding the girl's eyes and looking for a change of subject. "I still don't know 
what your name is," she realized.

"Oh, man." Xander rubbed his eyes. "I'm sorry, total lack of manners. Willow, 
meet Nina Vega, the current Slayer. Nina, this is Willow Rosenberg, and Dead 
Man Walking back there is Angel."

Willow sighed and resisted the urge to elbow him again. She'd bruised enough 
of his ribs for one night. "It's nice to meet you, Nina."

"Same here." Nina half-saluted. "Any bud of Xander's, and all that."

Angel just nodded.

They were at the high school by then, which looked the same as it had when 
Willow had left it for the last time, 18 years before. For a moment, the 
temptation to run in the side door to the library and surprise Giles was 
irresistible -- then she remembered. No Giles. No Buffy. No more.

Xander must have caught the direction of her thoughts, because his hand 
caught hers again. "I know," he said quietly. "It's weird. I had to go in to get 
Nina a couple weeks ago and...." He shook his head, his jaw tightening. "I don't 
want to do that again."

Willow leaned her head against his shoulder again for a moment, then abruptly 
straightened as alarm bells rang dimly in her head. Angel tensed at the same 
time, his eyes searching around them. 

"What is it?" Xander demanded.

"Vampires," Willow and Angel answered, again in near-perfect unison.

"Got them," Nina snapped, just as Willow spotted the three shapes lurking near 
the front door of the school.

"Need any help?" Angel asked, as Nina handed her backpack to Xander after 
retrieving a stake from its depths.

Nina shook her head, grinning casually. "Nah, I got it. You're guests, you don't 
have to fight. Be right back."

"Make it fast," Xander called quietly after her. "It's a school night!"

Nina saluted over her shoulder, moving fearlessly and silently across the street 
towards the school. The vampires spotted her and their snarls split the air as 
they lunged for her.

Willow watched nervously, torn between fear for the Slayer, and reluctant 
sympathy for the vampires. "Are you sure she doesn't need any help?"

Xander snorted. "Against three of them? No problem." But his hand was fisted 
around the strap of Nina's backpack, Willow noticed, and his voice wasn't 
nearly as casual as he probably would have liked to believe.  "But what the hell 
are they doing at the school again? This is the second group tonight."

"The Hellmouth." Angel's voice held no room for doubt. "There's something 
there they need."

Xander nodded in slow agreement as one vampire, then a second, turned to 
dust. Nina seemed to be drawing the third out, though; Xander sighed heavily 
and let his head hang. "Damn it, I keep telling her not to have so much *fun*."

Willow's eyes widened as Nina's taunts drifted faintly over the air to her 
audience. She hadn't known words like that when *she'd* been in high school. 
"Doesn't her Watcher do anything about it?" she asked, as Nina dropkicked the 
vampire, then actually stood back to let him recover.

"Come to that, where *is* her Watcher?" Angel added, one eyebrow up as he 
watched the show. "We need to talk to him."

Xander blinked at both of them for a long second. "Ah, her Watcher has *tried* 
to do something about it," he answered slowly. "Lots. But she's not big on 
listening.

"As for where he is," he continued, as Nina apparently got bored and finally 
staked the vampire with a showy somersault-plunge, "he would be right in 
front of you."

"Oh." Distracted by Nina bouncing back towards them, Willow took a few 
seconds to process the last part of that sentence. 

Then it suddenly hit her. "What?" She swung on Xander, knowing her jaw must 
be hanging to the ground; her only comfort was that Angel, for once, looked 
just as stunned. 

Xander just shrugged, one hand in his pocket, the other still dangling Nina's 
backpack. "I'm Nina's Watcher," he repeated calmly. 

And, as they continued to simply stare at him, he smiled crookedly. "Welcome 
back to Sunnydale."

*****
*****
Part 4
*****

**August 4, 2001

Dear Xander,

Jenny and I have finally settled in here in Heidelburg; I thought I had 
exaggerated to myself the difficulties of moving one's life across an ocean, but, 
if anything, my mind had painted a somewhat rosy glow over the effort. Still, 
there were two of us to do the work this time, which always makes it easier.

We received your letter just before leaving the States. I am glad to hear you 
succeeded so well in basic training, and I agree -- it would seem you did retain 
even more of your 'soldier' persona than we originally anticipated, which I'm 
sure was quite a help. I cannot help wishing you'd chosen a somewhat less 
hazardous route than Special Forces, but if that is what you want, I have no 
doubt you will achieve it. You have always been most resourceful.

Oddly enough, I also heard from Cordelia shortly before leaving Sunnydale; 
she is preparing to begin her next semester of classes at the University of 
Southern California, as nearly as I can surmise -- much of her letter was 
somewhat unintelligible. What is a 'mosh pit' and how did she manage to break 
an ankle in one? Still, she seems to be quite happy -- I sent her your address, as 
she requested, being reasonably certain not even the two of you can come to 
blows through letters.

Jenny has already assembled her computer equipment; in fact, she had the 
computer running before we managed to assemble the bed or the kitchen. I did 
attempt to comment on her priorities

Ignore him, Xander -- he had four boxes of books unpacked before I even got 
the hard drive plugged in.  He's just sulking because I made him type this on 
the computer so you wouldn't have to try to read his handwriting anymore.

As you might have guessed, Jenny is looking over my shoulder and 
commandeering the keyboard at will; I'm somewhat at her mercy. And I do 
not sulk.

At any rate, Jenny has already begun work as a free-lance programmer, as I 
believe the phrase goes.  And I.....

Well, at risk of bringing up a painful subject, I have located the potential Slayer 
I will be training, and must now find a way to approach her. She is a girl of ten 
-- a bit older than usual, but that seems to be something of a trend of late -- 
named Annika Jergens. She seems, after my limited observations, to be a 
bright, quite cheerful child; I look forward to knowing her.

It is odd to look back even four years, and remember how we were when I 
first began my last assignment. I wake up sometimes thinking I must hurry to 
get to the library, to be there when you and Buffy and Willow arrive. Then, of 
course, I remember....

I refuse to become maudlin when paying for airmail, so I shall simply say that 
you are greatly missed. Enclosed is our new address and phone number; please 
write whenever you have the opportunity.

Jenny sends her love, as do I.

Yours,
Giles

P.S. Also enclosed is a picture we came across while packing. We had always 
intended it for you, but it was somehow buried in a pile of books before we 
could give it to you. I don't remember if I have ever thanked you for serving as 
my best man when Jenny and I were married -- the events of those days are 
rather cloudy, to say the least. If I neglected to do so then -- thank you.**

*****

Angel and Willow were still gaping at Xander when Nina bounced back to 
them; Xander couldn't decide whether to be amused or offended by their open-
mouthed disbelief.

Nina didn't have any problems. "What's with them?" she cracked, jerking her 
thumb at the pair. "They look like you just turned into a ghost."

"I... sort of did," Xander answered, amusement starting to win out. "In a weird 
kind of way."

"Oh." Nina considered, then apparently decided to let it drop. "Whatever. The 
vamps are dusted, where are we going now?"

"You are going home," Xander informed her. "I don't want to have another 
'discussion' with Annie about letting you stay out past curfew."

"But what about them?" Nina protested, with another gesture toward Angel 
and Willow. "I want to hear the story!"

"Later," Xander told her firmly. "I'll tell you all about it. And about the 
Ascension," he tacked on as Nina opened her mouth again. "Just... later, okay, 
hon?"

Nina still looked rebellious, but finally gave in. "All right, I'll go," she sulked. 
"But you *are* gonna tell me everything!"

"Promise."

She gave one last look at Willow and Angel, who were starting to pull it back 
together at last, then unexpectedly threw her arms around Xander's waist in a 
quick hug. "Be careful, Teach," she whispered, for his ears only. "I know they're 
your friends, but I know there's something wrong, too."

Xander returned the hug, bending to rest his cheek on her hair for a moment. 
"It'll be okay, Neen," he replied just as quietly. "Promise." 

She nodded and let go, retrieving her backpack and shouldering it with a cocky 
motion, grinning as if the moment of closeness had never happened. "See you 
after school, Teach. Night, guys."

"Good night, Nina," Willow managed to say, before the girl headed off down 
the street, whistling cheerfully.

Angel had recovered from his shock, and looked after Nina with an expression 
Xander couldn't quite identify. "She's.... unique."

"I think the word you're looking for is terrifying," Xander corrected dryly. 
"Neen has her own way of doing things."

"Vega..." Willow said slowly. "Is she Annie Vega's daughter? From high 
school?"

"Yeah. That was kind of a surprise." Xander took Willow's hand again, unable 
*not* to touch her, and started walking towards the docks, feeling a sudden itch 
to get off the streets. "But it made it easier to take over as her Watcher after 
Giles...."

His voice broke as his throat closed against unexpected pain. He'd thought the 
last of the grief had run its course; he always thought that, until something 
happened to bring it flooding back. He hadn't been there....

"Giles was supposed to be her Watcher?" Willow asked delicately, after a long 
minute passed. Her hand was firm in his, and her eyes were soft with 
sympathy as they looked up at him.

Xander nodded once. "Yeah. Then he... died, and it was suddenly my job. Lucky 
me."

"How...?" Willow started, but Xander cut her off abruptly.

"Later."

She bit her lip, but fell silent, her hand tightening on his again. Angel walked 
behind them, a silent shadow in the darkness.

*****

In high school, Xander's loft had been just another of the warehouses lining the 
old docks at the edge of town. When the ships had stopped coming in, they'd 
been torn down for the most part, but one or two had been converted into 
stores and living quarters. Xander's loft was the entire second floor of one of 
those, above a New Age shop that had a steady stream of business for 
fortunes, tarot cards, and incense. There was a certain irony in that, but he 
didn't usually dwell on it. And the upside was that the owner was a pagan and 
knew her warding spells. Talk about your security systems....

Still, he opened his door carefully, flipping on the lights and making sure 
nothing unpleasant was waiting. Vampires couldn't come in without an 
invitation, but that had never stopped various other ghoulies and ghosties. 
That was one of the reasons there were no walls in the loft other than the 
bathroom, and no furniture big enough to hide behind. Nina called it galloping 
paranoia. Xander called it survival.

Nothing jumped out at him, so he went inside, pulling his shirt over his head 
the second he cleared the door, clouds of vampire dust rising into the air 
around him. "I need a shower," he announced, draping the shirt around his 
neck. "If you guys don't mind...?"

He realized the other two hadn't followed him in and turned to look at them 
curiously. "Well?"

Willow looked uncomfortable; Angel just raised one eyebrow. "Been a while, 
hasn't it?" he asked wryly. "An invitation would be nice."

"Oh. Right." Willow needed an invitation. Xander refused to dwell on those 
implications, just swept his arm wide in an exaggerated bow. "Mi casa es su 
casa. Come on in."

Willow smiled and Angel shook his head and they both came in, Angel closing 
the door carefully behind them and fastening all three locks. Nice to know 
Xander wasn't the only paranoid one around.

"Anyway..." Xander continued his earlier sentence hesitantly, "I need a shower, 
if you guys could wait a few?" 

He used the plural, but his eyes never left Willow; he was more than a little 
afraid that if he looked away, or even blinked, she'd be gone again. But she 
simply smiled at him, the old sweet smile he remembered so well. "We'll wait."

"Then we need to talk," Angel added grimly. Xander bit back a few responses, 
and settled for nodding. It took a few tries to tear his eyes away from Willow 
long enough to make it through the doorway into the bathroom.

Once there, he threw his shirt into a corner and skinned quickly out of the rest 
of his clothes, turning the shower on as hot as it would run and taking a quick 
inventory of his bruises. Not too bad; his ribs were already turning some 
interesting colors, and there were some claw marks on his right arm, but 
nothing serious. He ducked under the shower, and let the hot water pound 
over him.

Willow. Home. 

He stuck his head under the showerhead, letting the rush of water block out all 
sound, all sight, all thought. But those two words kept circulating, with the 
fierce rush of emotion.

Willow. Home.

****

Willow floated aimlessly around Xander's apartment, touching a pillow here, a 
knickknack there. She wasn't sure whether to be surprised that books covered 
every available surface that wasn't covered with computer equipment -- the 
research materials suited a Watcher, but clashed badly with her memories of 
Xander. There were also pictures, scattered in strange corners, almost out of 
sight. None of his parents, of course, but there was one of Giles and... Ms 
Calendar? The computer teacher? A wedding picture? Tucked in another 
corner, almost hidden, was an old picture of Willow herself, with Xander and 
Jesse, back in their grade school days. She let her fingers linger on that one for 
a moment, remembering.

Angel was roaming around the edges of the room, his hands still deep in his 
pockets, his eyes looking at everything and nothing as he paced. Willow 
debated trying to calm him down, but stayed silent, instead. This wasn't a calm 
situation; better that Angel worked off the energy than suppressed it. 

She recognized a few of the books on Xander's desk -- several had been Giles's, 
she knew; others were duplicated in the small library she and Angel carried 
with them. Xander had a copy of Tobin's Spirit Guide that wasn't missing the 
pages hers was, she noted -- maybe she could talk him into photocopying for 
her. 

She put the book back down, and her fingers brushed the metal of another 
picture frame, this one almost hidden under reams of printouts. Pulling it out 
took a certain amount of caution to prevent a paper avalanche, but it finally 
came free -- and Willow caught her breath.

Buffy. Wearing a midnight blue Prom dress that turned her skin to ivory and 
her hair to gold. Next to her stood Xander, in a formal tuxedo with a 
cummerbund precisely the same shade as Buffy's dress. He looked young, just 
like she remembered, and startlingly handsome, but it was to Buffy's face that 
Willow's eyes kept returning.

Angel carried a school picture of Buffy with him, taken that one sophomore 
year together, and all of Willow's memories of Buffy seemed tied up in that 
picture -- the cheerful, seemingly carefree girl with the neon-bright smile and 
the exuberant energy shining out of her. This Buffy, only two years later, had 
none of that cheerfulness, none of that exuberance. Her smile was controlled, 
almost solemn, as if she couldn't quite turn up her lips under the weight of her 
emotions. There was no aura of energy around her, only a determined 
purposefulness, even when she was supposed to be having fun.

The girl Willow carried in her memory had died long before the date on her 
tombstone, she realized. Only the Slayer had survived. For the first time in 
years, Willow wanted to cry.

"So," Xander said casually behind her; she jumped and almost dropped the 
picture, turning to face him. His hair was wet and fingercombed carelessly back 
from his face, and he was wearing only jeans again, his chest and feet bare. A 
faint scar traced across his stomach, but Willow forced her eyes away from the 
area. "I, ah, guess it would be too much to hope you guys just came back for a 
social call, huh?"

"Oh, um..." Willow stammered, trying to recover. "No, we... Um...."

Xander's eyes narrowed, and he looked past her to the picture she held. He 
took it from her and stared at it for a long moment, tracing Buffy's face with his 
thumb. Then he laid it reverently back on the desk, half covering it with a quick 
shuffle of papers.

"I didn't mean to be nosy," Willow said quietly. "I just... wanted to see."

Xander smiled at her, a forced smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "It's okay. I 
just look lousy in a tux, you know?" He raked his hand through his hair again, 
obviously looking for a way to change the subject, but the gesture called 
attention to a glint of silver on his chest. 

Willow flinched, and heard Angel's low curse across the room. Xander was 
wearing  a cross around his neck, a plain, heavy silver affair that looked very 
familiar, but Willow couldn't quite focus on it enough to be sure. Angel seemed 
to be, though; he crossed the room to them in one long stride.

"Sorry," Xander apologized as he headed for the dresser on the far wall, 
presumably to get a shirt. "I'll cover it." 

"Where did you get that?" Angel asked, his voice strangled.

Xander refused to look at him, putting far more effort into looking for a shirt 
than was necessary. "Buffy gave it to me. Before she died."

"I gave it to her."

"I know." Xander 's face was a study, torn between resentment and sympathy 
at the grief in Angel's voice. Sympathy won, just barely. "She wore it all the 
time," he said, "until...."

"Yeah." Angel's voice was flat; he turned away abruptly, staring out the 
window. "Until."

The tension was thick enough to drown in; Willow jumped into the breach 
before she even knew what she was going to say. "Look, Xander, I know this 
isn't easy for you...."

"Isn't easy?" Xander half-laughed, a low sound that had no humor in it. "Talk 
about faces from the past. You disappear for eighteen years, then just turn up 
one day, hi honey, I'm home, did you miss me? Xander Harris, this is your life."  
He huffed out another laugh, and turned away, fingering the chain of Buffy's... 
his cross. "No. This is not what I'd call easy."

Willow bit her lip and looked down at the wooden floor, not knowing what to 
say. Angel filled the silence this time. "Sorry about the short notice," he 
apologized with only a little irony. "But there's about to be a very bad situation 
and you're sitting right on top of it."

"So what else is new?" Xander sighed. "Life on the Hellmouth, every day a new 
and funfilled experience fighting the dead, the undead and the 'wish they were 
dead'. What new and exciting catastrophe awaits us tonight? I mean, besides 
the Ascension?"

"You know then," Angel said grimly.

"Well, you know, the Watcher thing and all," Xander returned with a great deal 
of irony.  He'd gotten better at sarcasm over the years, Willow noted 
uncomfortably. "We like to keep track of when vampires are going to try to call 
upon all the mystic forces in creation, become full-fledged demons and destroy 
the world. Kind of a hobby. So, what useful information are you here to offer?"

Angel was clenching his jaw by the time Xander finished, one muscle jumping 
in his cheek. Willow knew that expression, knew Angel wouldn't say anything 
until he could trust himself not to lose his temper. "We know the vampire 
who's going to try -- at least, Angel does. Did. A long time ago."

"Great, one of Angelus' old pals. Wonderful. Talk about hanging with bad 
crowds...." Xander flopped down on his faded, couch, letting his head roll 
against the back. "Which one is it this time?"

Angel answered, speaking very carefully, each word controlled. "I knew him a 
long time ago, like Willow said. I... made him."

"Oh, a family reunion," Xander nodded sagely. "Hope the Sunnydale Hilton 
isn't full so you can all get rooms." 

Willow wanted desperately to smack him, but refrained. They'd known this 
wasn't going to be simple. Angel's jaw tightened again, but he kept going, 
ignoring Xander's commentary. "This isn't just any vampire. He's got brains 
and he's tough, and it's been a long time since he had anything to lose. Spike 
is...."

"Wait." Xander's voice was sharp, cold. He hadn't moved from the couch, but 
he was sitting bolt upright now, every muscle iron stiff. "Did you say Spike?"

Angel's eyes sharpened in response, narrowing on Xander. "Yeah. You know 
him."

Xander's face was as cold as his voice had been, carved in stone, with a hatred 
Willow could never have imagined seeing in him burning from his eyes. "Yeah. 
I know him."

Willow wanted to go to him, but some instinct held her back. "How?"

Xander's jaw worked; he came to his feet as if he simply couldn't stay still any 
longer and strode to the window. "I know Spike," he repeated, gazing blindly 
out at the night, his fists clenched at his side. "He killed Buffy."

*****
*****
Part 5
*****

**May 27, 2008

Dear Giles and Jenny,

Got your last letter and the pics of Annika -- you guys are right, she's a good 
kid. Thanks for enclosing the note from her, Jenny (and thanks for translating 
it, Giles). I'm looking forward to meeting her. 

I'm assuming the slayage is going well. Who knew there was a mystical 
convergence of energy under Berlin, of all places? Although the whole Wall 
thing makes a little more sense now; the whole Hitler thing, too, come to think 
of it.  But having Annika in university must make it easier to do the training 
and all-night research party thing; aren't you glad she didn't get Called until 
last year? Doesn't it make you want to just throw a great big 'thank you!' party 
for the Powers That Be?

Or not. Actually, I'd be more thankful if she hadn't been called at all, and it 
sounds like the Council would have been, too. Don't let those tight-asses get to 
you, Giles; if Fate handed you two active Slayers in a row, it must have been 
for a reason. By the way, you never did tell me -- was Ani called in Buffy's line, 
or in Kendra's? It doesn't matter, I guess, I was just... wondering.

Okay, I'm stalling. Big news came through today; my unit's being reassigned. 
Remember when I said I was looking forward to meeting Annika? Well, looks 
like it's gonna happen in about three weeks. 1st Lt. Alexander Harris and 
company are on TDY -- that's a temporary duty assignment for the civilians in 
the crowd -- to work with the KSK in Germany. That's kind of the equivalent of 
my Airborne crowd; we're supposed to be learning anti-terrorist tips from each 
other and generally playing nice. Yeah, that'll happen. 

Anyway, we're gonna be stationed at Powell, outside ??? -- close enough that, 
if a nice-enough invitation is issued, I'll probably be turning up on your 
doorstep every time I have leave. I should be out there by the middle of June, 
so keep the spare bedroom waiting and some stakes warm. Although I carry 
around my own weapons these days....**

*****

He'd long since lost track of time or of place. There were only the vampires, 
coming at him one after the other. He'd stake one, then three more would 
converge on his side. He could hear Jenny behind him, watching his back the 
best she could, but he couldn't spare any attention for her. There was only the 
wave of bodies, of dust, and of blood. 

"Buffy!" He screamed the Slayer's name, hearing it echo off the walls, and, as if 
it was a spell, the vampires disappeared, and the room was empty.

He stood in shock, the only sound his own breath rasping in his ears. He 
couldn't hear Jenny or Buffy or Spike... only his breathing. And a moan from a 
few feet away.

"Oh my god. Buffy!"

The scream tore at his throat as he stumbled to his knees beside her, feeling the 
rough concrete tear his skin and not caring. His hands were clumsy as he 
fumbled for her, tried to pull her into his arm, tried to clear her hair away from 
her face, battered and bloody. So much blood. 

"Buffy! No, Buffy, please..."

Her lips twitched as she tried to smile up at him. "Xander.... I... "

"Don't talk," he hushed her frantically. "Just hang in there, we'll take care of 
you, you'll be safe..."

She shook her head slightly and spoke again, every word an effort. "No... 
Xander.... Take... the cross... Give...." She coughed suddenly, harshly and blood 
gushed from her mouth over Xander's shirt, soaking it to the bone. Her mouth 
formed one last word, that came out on her dying breath. She sagged against 
him.... and exploded into light and dust.

Xander stared at his empty arms in shock,  screaming his rage and grief to the 
ceiling. "Buffy! Noo!!!!"

******

"Buffy! Noo!!!!"

Angel was on his feet before the last of Xander's scream echoed off the walls of 
the loft. But as quickly as he moved, Willow beat him to Xander's bed, tucked 
on a platform-like affair in the corner built ten feet off the floor. Probably to 
give Xander the high ground if someone managed to break in; there was a 
crossbow barely visible under his bed frame. The man was raising paranoia to 
an art form.

Willow had already raced up the ladder to Xander's side, talking to him, 
soothing him.

"It's okay, Xander," she said quietly, not getting close to him; Angel was glad to 
see she had that much sense. He'd seen Xander fight, and it was a long drop to 
the floor even for Willow. "Come on, Xander, wake up. It's just a dream. Just a 
dream."

She said the words over and over, until Xander's body stopped shuddering; he 
sat up and wrapped his arms around legs, burying his face in his knees. Willow 
sat beside him, carefully stroking his hair, the dim moonlight from the huge 
windows gilding her face and hair as she whispered to her oldest friend. It was 
a sight Angel had waited eighteen years to see.... He turned away abruptly, 
backing into the shadows, and started the coffee.

It had been Xander's idea to leave the telling of stories until morning; they 
were all tired -- Xander from his fight, Willow and Angel from three days of 
non-stop travel. Emotions were running too high for anyone deal logically. But 
sleep hadn't done anything for Xander's emotions, judging from his 
bloodcurdling screams.

Screaming Buffy's name. 

It wasn't until Angel heard the can of coffee dent that he realized how hard he 
was clutching it. He let go carefully, reconsidered feeding Willow and Xander 
caffeine at this time of night, and rummaged for tea. There it was; Earl Gray, 
the same brand Giles had stocked in his office, once upon a time.... Damn, 
caffeine in that, too. Herbal it was....

By the time the water was boiling, he'd gotten himself under control, and 
Willow had gotten Xander downstairs. He wouldn't settle down, but paced in 
front of the windows, his face as pale as death. Willow sat on the couch, 
accepting the tea Angel handed her with a small smile. Xander accepted his 
mug absently, cradling it in his hands as if he wanted the warmth more than 
the refreshment.

"Thanks," he said, with such absent courtesy that Angel was pretty sure Xander 
didn't actually know who'd just handed it to him. Angel decided to keep it that 
way, and withdrew to the couch, sitting on the arm next to Willow.

"Are you all right, Xander?" she asked after a few minutes, when Xander finally 
took a sip out of his cup. His frantic pacing had calmed; he was standing in 
front of one of the windows that ran floor to ceiling on the east wall. So he 
could see the sunrise every morning, Angel bet.

Xander made a sound that was almost a laugh; might have been, if his face 
hadn't been so drawn, his eyes so haunted. "Sometimes, I think I haven't been 
all right since that night at the Bronze. That first night."

Willow nodded quietly, leaning her head against Angel's arm, her face 
shadowed with memories. Angel had his own memories of that night, the 
night it had all started. A beautiful blonde girl, fearless and strong, knocking 
him off his feet in an alley....

Xander kept staring out the window. "I haven't had the nightmare in a while. 
Mostly, just around the anniversary of the night Buffy died." He said the words 
simply, with no stutters or hesitation. Like he'd gotten used to saying them, 
and it didn't matter anymore. "Guess seeing you guys, hearing Spike's name--" 
He said it with venom, worlds of hatred encompassed in one syllable, five 
letters. "--I guess it brought it all back."

"Do you.. want to talk about it?" Willow offered hesitantly. Angel was torn 
between demanding Xander tell them the story, and begging the boy -- the 
man -- to never tell it. To let him keep living in the world where Buffy was 
alive, waiting in Sunnydale form them to come home...

In the end, Xander took the choice away by speaking. Calmly, emotionlessly, 
like he was reciting some old news story that had no relation to him. he never 
looked at them, never looked anywhere but out towards the east. Towards the 
sunrise. 

"I guess it started for me outside the factory. Or maybe in the library, when I 
found Giles unconscious that night. I figured out what had happened and 
headed after Buffy. I caught up to her just in time, for all the good it did...."

*****

He waited calmly, patiently, and was rewarded after a few minutes by the 
sound of footsteps in the alley. He waited until the crossbow passed him, then 
stepped out. "Buffy."

"Xander!" She identified him before her finger twitched on the trigger, which 
he'd been counting on. Stupid move, he realized, but what the hell. Buffy was 
outdoing them all for stupid tonight.

"I found Giles," he said as calmly as he could with a deadly furious Slayer 
pointing a crossbow at him. "You'd think he'd have learned by now about your 
uppercut."

Buffy shook her head, her jaw tight and her eyes burning cold. "Go home, 
Xander. Go take care of Giles. This is between me and Spike."

"The hell it is," Xander replied, just as coldly. "He's got Jenny, that makes it my 
fight, too, and Giles'. And I am not going to let you go get yourself killed so he 
can lose *both* of you."

"Damn it, Xander..." Her voice trailed off -- then her fist came up.

It hit air, as Xander ducked and knocked it aside. "Now I, on the other hand," he 
said calmly, "*have* learned about your uppercut. And you're not going alone, 
you selfish little bitch."

She blinked up at him for a second, startled hurt almost clawing through the 
rage, almost making him wish the words back. Then her eyes hardened again. 
"It's a trap, Xander," she informed him as if that should be a surprise.

"I know that. I wasn't sure *you* did, seeing as how you're waltzing into it 
alone." He hadn't let go of her wrist, stared at her levelly. "I love you, Buffy. 
You're my best friend. I know the risks and I'm not letting you take them 
alone. Where you go, I go."

She returned his stare as if she was ready to kill him for his own good, but it 
was something in her that broke. "Fine," she said at last, cutting the word off 
sharply. "You better be armed then, 'cause I'm going to be too busy to watch 
your ass."

"Then I'll just have to watch yours." He hefted his crossbow in one hand, a 
stake in the other, and patted the bundle of flares hanging from his backpack. 
"Distractions are us."

Buffy took it in, and they both smiled. Humorless smiles, the smiles of warriors 
who knew they were about to die -- but wouldn't die alone.

*****

"It was a trap," Xander said, staring out the window as if the tiny corner of the 
ocean visible was the most fascinating thing in the world. But his eyes were 
focused somewhere much further away. "We knew it was, but we went 
anyway. And Spike was ready for us. He had Jenny... staked out. On an altar. 
She was five months pregnant and she was shivering and scared to death -- and 
she looked up at him and spit in his eye. He laughed and raised the knife...."

*****

The crossbow bolt flew perfectly straight, right into Spike's arm, the shock and 
force of the impact tearing the blade out of his fingers. Xander thought, dimly, 
that the near-perfect shot might have had something to do with the half-
prayers, half-curses that were tumbling from his mouth, but he would never be 
certain. If God had been paying attention, that was His only contribution to the 
evening's events.

Spike snarled, and Buffy leapt, and before she could get halfway across the 
room, vampires boiled out of every corner of the old factory. And it had a lot 
of them. In seconds, she was surrounded by a screaming horde, fangs out and 
searching.

Xander raced to help her, but she caught his eye in a brief pause between 
blows. 'Get Jenny', that glare said as clear as words, and, reluctantly, Xander 
worked his way into the shadows instead, around the room to the altar. One or 
two vampires spotted him, but after this many years, he could stake as almost 
easily as his bestest bud the Slayer. He took a few hits and one good knife cut, 
but mostly, their dust just made footing a little uncertain. He stopped long 
enough to light the flares and drop them in the places where they would do the 
most good, then made it to Jenny's side.

"Xander." Jenny didn't scream, only whispered his name, trying to keep 
attention away from them and on Buffy. Xander grinned down at her as 
comfortingly as possible, which probably wasn't very, and grabbed the knife 
Spike had dropped; it went through the ropes around Jenny's wrists and ankles 
easily. He had to help her off the altar, her normally graceful body impeded by 
the burgeoning weight of her child. 

"Get to the door," he started to tell her, when something hit him from behind, 
sending him stumbling into Jenny and both of them tumbling to the floor.

"Well, what have we here?" Spike stood over them, his shirt the color of blood, 
his jacket the color of night, his hair bleached violently blond and his smile wide 
and cheerful. And completely empty. "If it isn't Mr. Harris, trying to make off 
with my prize. Didn't think you had the stones to try this one, Harris; thought 
your little bitch did all the work in the family."

"She does." Xander surprised himself with how calm his voice was. He put his 
body between Spike and Jenny, dropping the sacrificial knife to raise his stake. 
Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Buffy dust two vamps in quick succession, 
and send another stumbling into a piece of rusted-out machinery. The flares 
had done their job; flames were starting to lick at the walls, panicking several of 
Spike's henchmen in flight (which had been the general idea). Xander smiled 
grimly at the sight. "But I get to clean up the mess afterwards. You know, 
househusband stuff."

Spike was also watching his henchmen fleeing through the thickening smoke, 
looking more than a little disgusted, and Xander saw his shot. He had no 
illusions about his ability to take Spike on, especially since the bastard had been 
letting his henchmen do all the work. He was still fresh, unwounded... 
unbeatable. And he would wait for the vamps to finish Buffy or Buffy to finish 
the vamps, then take her on.

Unless Xander could even the sides.

He lunged for Spike's heart with no further preliminary banter, catching the 
vampire by surprise. With a grim satisfaction, he felt the stake rip through 
flesh, but he knew he'd missed the heart.

Spike snarled in pain and caught Xander by the collar, sending him flying 
brutally into the wall. Xander fell to the floor, stunned, the room whirling in 
dark circles around him. Jenny crawled to him and, somehow, he got to his 
knees, got back between her and Spike. "You don't get her," he gasped at Spike. 
"You don't get the baby."

Spike grinned, demon face on and ugly as ever. "I never wanted her," he said 
brightly, accent thick and happy. "Oh, she would've done the job, her and her 
brat... but I had bigger fish to fry."

"Then pull out the pan, and let's get cooking."

Spike turned quickly, suddenly face to face with the Slayer. Xander tried to 
focus, then wished he hadn't. Buffy's clothing was torn in a hundred places, her 
face covered with blood from a gash above her forehead. She was favoring her 
ribs and her shirt was bloody there, too; so were her pants. But she was on her 
feet and her eyes were on Spike, gleaming with hatred and determination.

"I'm the one you want, Blondie," she snarled. "Leave them alone and try 
someone your own size."

Spike smiled slowly, the expression horrible on the demonic face. "My pleasure, 
ducks."

*****

"I don't remember the fight, not really. I was concussed, and one of those 
vampires had gotten me; I was bleeding all over Jenny and she was trying to 
stop it while I faded in and out. Neither of us could walk. Buffy almost had him 
once, I remember that. But he got her in the ribs and she stumbled and.... And 
then it was over."

Xander's voice broke. Tears were trickling down his face, set in a death mask; 
he didn't wipe them away, didn't even seem aware of them. Angel had 
forgotten how to breathe, his muscles tensed as if to fight a battle that had 
ended fourteen years before. 

"I heard her hit the concrete," Xander whispered, "and all I could think was that 
she'd died for nothing. Spike was still going to win."

*****

"Well, now." the vampire grinned cheerfully as he walked over to Jenny and 
Xander. "Two for the price of one; the Hellmouth's beasties are gonna eat 
pretty well tonight."

Xander tried to get to his knees again, but his legs failed him; he and Jenny 
clutched at each other, and Xander didn't know who was holding the other up. 
He heard her breathing, short and fast next to his ear, and held her as tightly as 
he could. 'I'm sorry, Giles," he thought helplessly. 'I'm sorry, Buffy. I tried....'

Spike stopped, standing over them, savoring his triumph. "I wasn't counting on 
getting you, Harris, but I can't say it breaks my heart. You helped the little 
bitch kill my Dru, after all; kind of nice to get my payback all at once."

He knelt in front of them, his breath hot on Xander' face, and held up one 
hand, slowly licking Buffy's blood off of it. "I'm just glad you got to see her die 
before dinnertime." He took Jenny's hair, twisted it, and bared his fangs over 
her pale neck.

"No!" He didn't know how, but Xander found the strength from somewhere, 
deep in his heart where rage and grief and hatred lived, and lunged forward, 
knocking Spike to the ground. 

Spike shouted in shock and anger, and shoved Xander away. He scrambled to 
his feet, nearly spitting with rage. "Oh, I'll make it slow for that, you little prick-
-"

Which was when the crossbow bolts took him in the shoulder and the stomach. 
He and Xander both blinked in utter shock.

"The next ones will hit your heart, you son of a bitch." The precise English tones 
came from the doorway of the factory. Giles strode into the room, a crossbow 
at his shoulder like some fashion accessory and a sword in his other hand, and 
he wore the face of Death Incarnate. The Ripper had come out to play. Another 
figure, equally well-armed, was behind him, Xander realized dimly, but Giles 
and Spike were all he could see through the heavy smoke and the rising flames.

Spike staggered, blood coming through his fingers, and made a half-hearted 
gesture towards Jenny. But she'd finally recovered enough, and liquid syllables 
spilled from her lips, power rising around her. Spike snarled, a low, ripping 
sound.

Then he turned and ran.

Giles was next to his wife in a moment, sparing a brief look at Xander. "Buffy?"

"I don't..." Xander shook his head, then suddenly remembered, finding the pile 
of bloody clothes laying several feet away, at the foot of the altar. Spike had 
slammed her down on it, Xander remembered, a crunch that would haunt his 
nightmares. He scrambled to his knees and made it to her side, heedless of the 
hands that reached to help him, gathering her broken, shattered body into his 
arms. She opened her eyes and smiled up at her best friend, and spoke, 
painfully. 

Then her eyes slipped closed and her body went limp, as Buffy Summers, the 
Slayer, died in Xander Harris' arms. 

*****

The tears ran steadily down Xander's cheeks, but he was still unaware of them, 
his voice as blank as his face. "We took her to the hospital with Jenny, but it was 
too late. We knew that, and we took her anyway. The doctors bought the story 
that we'd been attacked -- god knows we all looked like we'd been through a 
war, and this *is* Sunnydale. And the cops weren't going to question us, not 
with Buffy dead. Not after Jenny miscarried a few hours later."

He shrugged once, with a horrible off-handedness. "She was a little girl. 
Beautiful. They buried her in Giles' family grave in England. She was named 
Buffy Willow."

Willow's breath caught, and the tiny sound finally seemed to break through 
Xander's daze, reminding him that there were other people in the room. He 
sniffled hard and scrubbed at his cheek with the back of his bare arm; he 
apparently slept in sweatpants and nothing else. "About fourteen years and 
most of a lifetime ago."

"I'm sorry," Willow said quietly, fighting back tears of her own. Angel barely 
heard her, lost in the grim pictures painted by Xander's matter-of-fact 
recitation. Buffy had died in Xander's arms... was there comfort in knowing she 
hadn't died alone? Maybe. But not much.

"I didn't... we saw the article in the newspaper, her, um, obituary," Willow was 
continuing, stumbling over every other word, "but it didn't say...."

"Lots of things the Sunnydale paper doesn't say," Xander shrugged again. "You 
should know that." He sighed and looked down at the mug of tea as if he'd just 
noticed he was holding it, then set it down. "You get over it, you deal, you 
move on."

"That's the theory, anyway," Angel heard himself mutter and winced, but 
Xander only gave him a crooked, twisted smile.

"Yeah," he agreed. "That's the theory." He rubbed his eyes with one hand, then 
checked his watch. "God, it's almost sunrise. I've got to give that sleep thing 
another shot. You guys, um, might want to cover up with the blankets; I don't 
have any curtains."

Angel shook his head, still fighting down the cold knot of grief in his stomach. 
He needed time, space. It had been fourteen years, but he could see it now, as if 
he was watching Buffy die in front of his eyes. As Xander had.... "We'd better 
head back to our hotel. We've got some things to do there, some calls to 
make."

Willow tried to smile, and almost succeeded. "Plus, curtains are good for, you 
know, not having flambeed Angel." It took her two tries to get up, and Angel 
realized her knees were shaking. All of her was shaking, in fact; he gave her his 
arm to lean on and she took it gratefully, pressing her hand over his in mutual 
comfort. Sweet Willow.

Xander didn't move as they got up and left, just leaned back against the 
window. "Come by the Bronze tomorrow afternoon. Research party, just like 
old times -- BYO books."

"Okay." Willow paused halfway through, looking back at Xander. "It wasn't 
your fault, Xander. There were too many of them -- you couldn't have done 
anything to stop Spike alone."

"No, I couldn't," Xander nodded calm agreement. "But I had to try. No one else 
was there, were they?"

In later, more charitable moments, Angel would tell himself that Xander hadn't 
meant that as an accusation, hadn't intended to wound. But Willow's hand 
clenched on Angel's and Xander met Angel's furious eyes with a blank, 
detached gaze. The hot retort died on Angel's lips, unspoken.

They left without saying another word.

*****
*****
Part 6
*****

**The American soldier leaned back in his chair and stared out over the street in 
front of the small restaurant, crowded with the festivities of Oktoberfest. The 
pretty brunette with him was talking ferociously, gesturing so widely she 
almost hit her companion a few times.

"...You should have seen it, Xander," the brunette was saying. "He tore through 
the club like there weren't even any walls or anything, like he didn't even care 
if anyone saw him or figured out what he was. Or saw how completely 
outdated that outfit of his was." She shuddered delicately. "Anyway, everyone 
was standing around screaming, even the guys, but the vamp takes one look at 
me and decides I'm dinner! Am I wearing a sign that say 'Free Eats Here'?"

The soldier grinned down at her, putting his arm around her shoulders. 
"Actually, Cordy, we'd been meaning to tell you...."

The brunette wrinkled her nose at him. "So, Big Ugly Vamp is heading for me, 
and does my dear darling so-*very*-ex-husband do *anything*? No! He just 
stands there. So I grab a pool cue and this vamp is so dumb, he just runs right 
into it and does that dust thing. And everyone's staring at me like *I* did 
something weird. How wrong is that? Then the next morning, no one 
remembers anything!" She shook her head with a disgusted look. "I went to 
L.A. to get *away* from vampires."

The soldier hugged her, dropping a kiss on her forehead that looked as if it 
surprised both of them. "Well, I'm impressed, Cordy; I didn't know you had it 
in you. Want to be the Slayer?"

"Ew. No." The brunette sighed and leaned her head against the soldier's 
shoulder. "Have they found out who the new Slayer is? Since whatshername, 
Rena....?"

"We haven't heard yet, and I don't really care." The soldier's face was grim as 
he stared out over the street. "It's bad enough Annika got Called; I'm not going 
to worry about anyone else."

"Yeah," the brunette agreed. "Ani's kinda sweet, for someone who doesn't 
speak much English or anything."

They stood in silence for a long time, before the brunette looked up at the 
soldier. "Xander?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm glad I came to see Giles and Jenny yesterday. I... I kind of missed you."

"Yeah. I kind of missed you, too." The soldier suddenly grinned. "Scary, huh?"

"Oh yeah. Way." 

Another long silence, then two sets of laughter spilled over the street.**

*****

Xander dragged himself through the doors of the Bronze the next day with 
stifled moans and groans of mingled pain and exhaustion. The bruises from the 
fight in the cemetery had stiffened up nicely overnight; his morning run had 
become his afternoon hobble, and further PT was completely out of the 
question. On top of the sleep he *hadn't* gotten, thanks to nightmares and 
surprise visitors and Ascensions, he felt about 200 years old. 

"Wow, you look completely thrashed," Nina observed from the bar, where she 
was doing her trig homework. "Want me to get you a walker or something?"

Xander glared at her, not for the first time regretting he'd given her a key to 
the Bronze. But they'd always had a key to the library, back when.... And it had 
made Annie feel better, when Nina was younger, that she had a place to go 
other than to her empty house after school. 

"No, thank you," he said with icy dignity. "Us old folks just take a little while to 
get going in the morning."

Nina made a rude noise. "It's almost 3:45 in the afternoon. Some of us were in 
the same fight, *and* had school all day."

"Some of us are gonna die young if they keep insulting their elders," Xander 
retorted, leaning  painfully against the counter. He reached for the first thing 
that resembled coffee and chugged it, giving a sigh of bliss when the first 
blessed jolt of caffeine hit his system. 

Nina was watching him with smug teenaged amusement when he pried his 
eyelids back open. He really envied her that whole Slayer recovery thing 
sometimes. Other times, he just envied her the youth. "So," she smiled archly, 
closing her math book and leaning on her elbows on the bar. "Are you gonna 
avoid talking about the Ascension first? Or your old friends who aren't? Or 
why you've got buds who are a vampire and... something else of the non-
human variety?"

Xander winced and took another chug. "Ah, none of the above?" She nailed 
him with a glare and Xander put the mug down so he could hold his hands up 
in surrender. "Okay, okay." He sighed heavily and made his way around to the 
front of the bar, pulling up the stool next to her. "So, the Ascension. I guess 
that's the most pertinent."

"As in, gonna get me killed soonest?"

Xander's turn for a glare. "We don't talk that like, kiddo."

She looked away guiltily. "Sorry."

Xander sighed again, and patted her slumped shoulders. "S'okay, Neen; I know 
what you meant." She straightened, looking happier, and he leaned his elbows 
on the bar. "Okay, the Ascension. What I know offhand is that, about fifteen 
years ago, the Mayor of our fair town decided he wanted to be a demon."

"Mayor Snyder?" Nina asked in horror.

"No, he's already a demon," Xander pointed out. Nina simultaneously grinned 
and winced her agreement; Snyder hated Nina almost as much as he hated 
Xander. As much as he'd hated all the Slayerettes back in the Old Days. "No, 
this was Mayor Wilkins. And he didn't want to be just any ol' demon; he 
wanted to be the biggest, baddest mother--" He cut himself off and coughed 
self-consciously. "He wanted to be special."

Nine snorted. "Like I haven't heard that word before. From you, even."

"I admit to nothing. *Anyway*, he did this ritual that made him invulnerable -- 
do you want the gory details?"

"Nope."

"Good, because I'd have to look them up. So, did ritual, then went for the big 
guns, to make himself a big enough, bad enough demon that the scaly uglies 
we deal with would look like French poodles."

"Ouch." Nina started to look faintly worried. Faintly.

"Oh yeah." Xander got back up and went for more caffeine. "One of the things 
he had to do to be DemonBoy," he continued as he started filling various 
machines with various coffee blends in preparation for opening, "was eat a 
whole bunch of creepy crawly things from the Box of Gowron--"

"Uh-uh. Gowron's a Klingon."

"Did I ask for commentary? Shut up, I'm lecturing."

"Ooo, Watcher power trip."

He gave her a Look and she grinned cheerfully, all traces of earlier dejection 
gone. Had he put Giles through this? "Look, Box of Gowron, Box of Gavrok, 
Box of... Box of Irrelevant, because Buffy and Kendra stole it, and Giles and 
Jenny destroyed it. Really pissed Hizzoner off, let me tell you. He got munched 
by a formerly pet demon about three weeks later, which is how Herr Snyder 
got the job."

"So, no box thing, no Ascension thing, right?" Nina summed up. "So what's this 
new dude think he's up to? Is there another one of the Klingon boxes?"

"No more boxes, no. One of a kind article." Xander shrugged more casually 
than he felt. "I have no idea what Spike thinks he's doing, I haven't had enough 
time to research it. The thing is, he's starting from vampire instead of 
marginally human, like the mayor, so totally different rules could apply."

"That's today's cheerful thought," Nina muttered.

"Yeah, tell me. Hopefully Angel and Will..." Her name caught in his throat 
suddenly, and he had to clear it before he could go on, "Angel and Willow will 
be more clueful. If nothing else, they'll be more hands for research."

"You mean I don't have to help research?" That perked Nina right up.

"No, that means we can get more research done in addition to you." She 
slumped back, pouting, and Xander shook his head. "You can do the computer 
part, okay?"

"Okay," she smiled, happy again, and Xander rolled his eyes. Give the kid a 
computer and she was happy as a clam. Hand her a book that didn't have to do 
with computers or math, and she rolled over and played dead. Somewhere in 
the afterlife, Giles was laughing his ass off.... On the other hand, Jenny's "scan 
the old books onto CD" project, after the little Moloch setback, had proceeded 
with great enthusiasm, so Nina was actually pretty helpful there.

"When are we getting started?" Nina asked, reaching over to swipe Xander's 
cup of coffee. He got it out of the way just in time. 

"Get your own. And as soon as everyone else shows up."

"Everyone else is here. Well, half of us are here. The other half aren't." 

Xander almost dropped the newly-rescued cup of coffee when he heard 
Willow's voice at the door. The years faded away, and they were meeting each 
other after school, threading through the crowds to find Buffy and ignore 
homework and Slayage for a few precious hours....

Nina gave her Watcher a strange look, and greeted Willow with a quick, "Hey. 
Nice outfit."

"Thank you." Willow smoothed her green sweater, which set her hair off 
perfectly, and walked forward on the heeled suede boots, which set off her 
skirt-clad legs equally admirably. Xander watched those legs for a long second 
until he got control and dragged his eyes back up to the face. Willow was 
smiling, and blushing faintly.

"Hi, Will," he stammered quickly. "Sleep well?"

She shrugged delicately. "Oh, you know. Strange town, sharing room with a 
vampire... Kind of not good sleeping things. But I'm used to it. I don't need 
much rest anyway; I'll catch up after this is over."

No lack of optimism there, Xander noted. "Cool. Where, ah.... Where is the 
vampire in question?"

"He went to check some sources, find out about the Ascension and stuff."

"Ah." Xander nodded. "He went to beat up Willie the Snitch."

Willow's smile broadened. "Yeah. Something like that."

"Good. Saves me from having to do it." Xander stretched, his tired muscles 
finally beginning to loosen up. He might be able to let Nina try to beat the hell 
out of him before patrol after all. "So, I figure we start hitting the books and try 
to anticipate Spike's next moves, hopefully before the rat bastard figures them 
out himself."

Willow blinked at the obscenity but didn't comment, and Xander wasn't about 
to apologize. "Yeah, that's what we thought, too. The best thing to use is 
something called the Book of Ascension, which should detail the ritual he'll 
have to use. But there's only a few sets and they're kind of hard to find any---"

"My office, bottom shelf to the right of the door." Xander gestured in the 
appropriate direction, and took a ridiculous amount of pleased satisfaction in 
seeing Willow's eyes shine with surprise and admiration. "Buffy and I stole 
them from the Mayor's office back when he tried to pull the Ascension 
number. Actually, I think I left them on my desk. If you want to start looking, 
I've got to finish getting ready to open up. Neen, you can hit the computer, but 
workout at five, then dinner, homework and patrol."

"Five-thirty?"

"Five."

"Rats. Okay." Nina hopped off the barstool. "Come on, Willow; you can tell me 
all the stuff about Xander he wishes you forgotten while we research."

"Or not," Xander suggested to their backs. Willow, who had been watching the 
exchange between Slayer and Watcher with amusement, looked back over her 
shoulder to give him another of those smiles; he distinctly heard the word 
"Barbie", but was too high on the smile to care. 

The mundane chores of pre-opening passed in a daze; Danny, Lori and Omar, 
the second bartender, would be in in another hour, just in time to let him slip 
away for workout with Nina. She'd have to be home by 6:15 for dinner with 
Annie; he'd head back to the Bronze and wait for her to return from patrol. A 
typical night in Sunnydale... except this time, the hours of research that usually 
occupied patrol wouldn't be spent alone. Would be spent with Willow.

Just like the Old Days....

"You know, if you put that French Roast in the decaff machine, there's going to 
be some seriously hyper teenagers bouncing around tonight. And you know 
what kind of property damage that can cause."

Xander turned away from said coffee machine (taking the time to notice that 
yes, he was putting in the wrong blend), and surveyed the gorgeous brunette 
walking up to the other side of the bar, watching him with one perfectly 
shaped eyebrow raised. She was wearing a dead simple blue silk suit that 
skimmed every curve, enhancing without being obvious. Her hair was drawn 
back in a simple knot, her heels were two inches high and didn't impede her 
movements in the slightest, and her purse matched the shoes. The outfit quietly 
stated money and style and, above all, class.

Xander would have expected nothing less.

He took the bar in one smooth leap, winning the impressed raising of the other 
eyebrow, and grabbed Cordelia Chase around the waist, pulling her close. 
"Been waiting all my life for you to walk into this gin joint," he told her in his 
best Bogart. "Stick with me, shweetheart, and I'll take you everywhere you 
never knew you wanted to go. We'll walk all day in the streets of London,  
we'll dance all night in the clubs of Paris--" He smoothly dipped her low over 
his arm to illustrate the point. "We'll watch the sun rise over the ocean...."

"And we'll slay a few vampires and oh, maybe a couple of demons, between 
the clubs and the beach," she completed for him, rolling her eyes. "Somehow 
I'm thinking no. And your Bogart routine still sucks."

He winced elaborately and dropped the voice. "Okay, for that, you're gonna 
have to pay for your drink. How about Irish coffee?"

"How about letting me up?"

"Sure, but then you don't get the coffee."

"You dork, let me go!" She smacked his shoulder with her purse, he let her up, 
and then he grabbed her again in a bear hug that lifted her feet inches off the 
ground. She returned the embrace with interest, laughing.

When Xander finally let Cordelia down, it was only to let her back a little away 
in the circle of his arms, so he could study her face. She looked stunning, as 
always, but her flawless makeup couldn't quite hide the fatigue behind her 
eyes. He ran his thumb across her cheek, just under one of those beautiful eyes. 
"How you doing, Cordy? How's husband number five?"

"Number four," she corrected him loftily, "now *ex*-husband number four. I 
signed the papers this morning. Good-bye, Jean-Louis, and good riddance."

"And so you came right up to party with me. Excellent." Xander gave Cordelia 
a smacking kiss to her cheek before escorting her to a bar stool. "And ditching 
Escargot Man is definitely cause for celebration. What a looz-aire."

The snotty French accent had the desired effect of making Cordelia giggle, or 
as close to it as she ever came. "You're telling me," she sighed, dropping her 
purse and unbuttoning her jacket. "But he was a really charming loser. And a 
pretty one."

Xander snorted his opinion of that and started making Cordelia's coffee, which 
effectively hid his deep desire to go pound the living crap out of the latest ex-
Mr. Cordelia Chase.  It had been Xander's doorstep Cordelia had shown up on 
five months ago, when she'd found out Jean-Louis was sleeping with her 
photographer. Her *male* photographer, which made him a serious candidate 
for worst guy ever in Cordelia's life, and there was some serious competition 
there. 

"Thanks, Xander." Cordelia smiled her appreciation when Xander handed her a 
cup of French Roast and he looked at her just to enjoy the view. But a half-
remembered flash of red hair and a shy smile wavered in between them; he 
blinked it away with an effort.

"You're welcome. You know," he observed as he watched her belt the coffee, 
not even blinking at the amount of Jack Daniels he'd spiked it with, "you really 
should have married me."

Cordelia sneered at him over the rim of the cup. "Yeah, right. The only times 
you've ever proposed have been at my weddings or at our pity parties after 
my divorces. "

"That doesn't make me any less sincere," Xander observed piously, then 
shrugged and gave it up when she continued not to buy the routine. "Anyway, 
at least Jean-Louis's butt is gone for good."

"Oh, yes." Cordelia sighed and held her cup back out. "Refill, and hold the coffee 
this time."

"Sorry, no can do," he told her, bringing the coffee pot over instead of the JD. 
"You're in town just in time to be Research Girl. See, we've got a problem, and 
you've always been better with demons than I am."

"Oh, goody." Cordelia sighed and made a face at the coffee as he poured it. 
"You know, that's the other reason I've never married you, Xander; you like 
hanging out with things with fangs more than you like hanging out with me."

"Untrue. You're much prettier than almost anything with fangs." He took the 
smack philosophically this time. "Careful, you'll break a nail. Seriously, 
Cordy.... It's Spike."

She sobered instantly, putting one perfectly manicured hand over his. "Oh God, 
Xander. I'm sorry. Is it bad?"

He shrugged and turned his hand up to grasp hers, trying not to look worried 
and probably not succeeding. "Looks like it could be. We're not sure yet."

"We?" Cordelia lifted one of those perfect eyebrows again. "Since when does 
Nina 'slaying vampires for fun and profit' Vega have any clue what's serious or 
not?"

"Um. Since never. Different we." He tried to think of a way to break it to her, 
and had the decision taken out of his hands when footsteps came down the hall 
from his office. 

"Xander?"

Cordelia looked up, then her nails dug into the hand she still held, as her face 
paled. "Oh my god. Willow?"

Her wide, shocked gaze swung from Willow's face up to Xander's, and he 
smiled weakly. "Yeah. I was, ah, trying to think of a good way to tell you. And, 
um, you know.... There isn't one, really."

"No shit," was all Cordelia could manage.

*****
*****
Part 7
*****

**The tall, solidly muscled soldier moved smoothly, creeping through the trees 
towards his quarry. One step, then another, silently, silently....

He reached to grab her arm and she swung around instantly, swinging a 
backhand at his face. He dodged and retaliated with a punch of his own; she 
ducked and broke away in one smooth move, trying to sweep his legs out 
from under him. But he was faster, jumping over the sweep kick and knocking 
her over in the same motion. She rolled and came up on her feet, facing her 
attacker.

"Enough." The English voice stopped both combatants in their tracks. "Excellent 
response, Annika, but you got too fancy. Try to keep both feet on the ground 
until later in the fight please. And Xander, you should have attacked instead of 
grabbing."

"Like vampires never grab?" the soldier pointed out with a slight, crooked grin.

His small brunette opponent grinned more broadly, her German-accented 
English easily understandable. "They also move with much more noise. More 
warning. It's almost not fair to them to train against Xander."

"I'm actually not interested in what's fair to vampires," the Englishman said 
severely. "Only what's fair to Slayers. Try that dodge/sweep kick sequence 
again, and this time, watch your balance. Xander?"

"You know," the soldier observed as he obeyed the order, "I could stay on base 
to take this kind of abuse. I don't have to haul my ass all the way into Berlin."

"Yeah, but on base, the abuse wouldn't be delivered with such a cute accent."

"Jenny, if you would please..."

He was too late. The two opponents looked at each other and the girl broke 
into helpless laughter; even the soldier started snickering. He sighed and hung 
his head in defeat. "I surrender. Training over. Come eat your dinners before 
patrol."**

*****

Nina Vega never stopped moving or talking. Period.

Willow figured that out after less than ten minutes trapped with the girl in 
Xander's small office, which was getting smaller all the time. Nina had 
commandeered the computer right away, to Willow's  surprise, and was 
happily chattering away as she called up the various demon databases that 
Willow herself would have gone straight for.

"...Xander's not great with computers," she was saying now, as Willow hunted 
through the piles of books (some business-related, some Business-related), 
paperwork (he either did his own taxes, or was conning Nina into doing them 
for him) and clothing (did Xander really live here? It would explain why the loft 
was so clean). "Aunt Jenny -- that's his friend, but I call her Aunt Jenny -- says 
that it comes with the whole Watcher gig. As soon as they appoint you, you 
start wearing tweed and carrying around dusty old books and being sure that 
computers are going to eat you if you look at them wrong. She's right, too, 
except I've never seen the Xand-man wear tweed. He keeps threatening to, and 
Cece keeps telling him she'll never be seen in public again with him if he ever 
does."

"Oh." Willow had stopped paying attention to the monologue at some point, 
but mention of Jenny's name had brought her back. "That's Jenny Calender? 
Um, Jenny Giles?"

"Uh-huh," Nina nodded without looking away from the screen. She was a touch 
typist. "Aunt Jenny was Xander's teacher in high school, then she married the 
guy who was Watcher then, Mr. Giles. He was supposed to be my Watcher, but 
he died, so I got Xander instead. But Aunt Jenny's deeply mag. She sends me 
email from London all the time, mostly about ghoulies and ghosties, but 
sometimes we just talk."

"She was really nice," Willow remembered out loud, dredging up memories of 
the computer teacher. Yes, she had been really nice; always in charge of her 
students, but never being mean about it; smart and supportive and cool. Just... 
an adult friend, like Giles. But *married* to Giles? BookMan and Computer 
Woman? She shook her head, still amazed. Giles In Love was a weird enough 
thought, but Giles married blew the mind.

Almost as much as Giles dead.

She buried that thought away quickly, with the skill she'd acquired over the last 
eighteen years of burying thoughts like that, and refocused on the pile of 
books in front of her as Nina chattered on.

"You knew her, too?" the girl asked. "Well, yeah, 'cause you were in high school 
with Xander and all. How'd that happen, anyway?"

"Well, there was a..." Willow caught herself just as she started to answer and 
found Nina looking at her with a studiously casual, far-too-adult look. "Good 
try. Xander and I will explain it to you later; there's not a lot of time right now."

Nina shrugged and went back to the computer. "I'll get it out of one of you 
eventually."

"I don't doubt it," Willow muttered under her breath. There they were, the 
books of Ascension. Volumes 2, 3, 4.... No 1. Where was the first volume? "I'll 
be back in a minute, Nina; I think Xander hid Volume 1."

"Like your Barbie?" Nina asked, grinning sat her reflection in the computer 
monitor. "You gotta watch him; he's sneaky. And fast."

"Don't I know it."

Willow let herself out of the office and made her way down the corridor, 
running her hand along the walls. She didn't need the guidance; there was 
enough light for her to see by. But she'd touched these walls before -- on the 
way to the girls' room mostly; while running out the back door on a few 
memorable occasions. 

It was all so familiar, and so strange. The Bronze was still there, but when the 
teenagers came flooding in, she wouldn't know any of their faces. Xander was 
still there, but he would be behind the counter, running things. The Slayer was 
still there, but she was a tall, self-assured brunette, not a small, perky blonde. 
The Watcher was still there, but... See above re: Xander.

She wanted Giles. She wanted to run to the library and throw her arms around 
him, like she'd wanted to do when she was a student and never been able to. 
Too late now. She wanted to giggle with Buffy, then go home to spend a couple 
hours on the phone discussing everything they'd just finished doing together. 
Too late now. She wanted to grab Xander and...

Too late now. Maybe. Or not. 

She heaved a disgusted sigh, realizing she was standing frozen in the middle of 
the dim hall, and firmly told her feet to resume motion. They obeyed, heading 
towards the brighter lights and the sound of voices. Xander's waitress? A 
bartender? No, the voice was vaguely familiar. She should know it.

Then she emerged into the light, calling Xander's name, and realized why it 
was so familiar. Cordelia Chase was sitting at the bar, her hand over Xander's, 
both of them looking intensely at each other. Like they were... friends?

They both looked up at Willow's voice; Xander looked sheepish and Cordelia's 
jaw dropped to the ground. Which didn't do a thing to make her look less 
elegant, beautiful and classically put-together. Willow instantly felt herself 
become 16 again in the other woman's presence -- her hair was suddenly too 
long, her sneakers untied, her shirt not cool enough. The fact that her hair was 
jaw-length, her boots didn't have laces and her sweater was Neiman Marcus 
didn't matter even a little. She braced herself for the insults that were sure to be 
the first thing out of Cordelia's mouth.

And therefore wasn't braced when Cordelia came off the barstool in one 
motion, and flew across the room to throw her arms around Willow. "Oh my 
god!" Cordelia shouted in Willow's ear. "You're alive! Oh, god, Willow, you're 
alive! I can't believe it!" She backed away, clutching Willow's shoulders, looking 
her over with a wide smile and every evidence of real, honest joy. "You're 
alive. You're Willow and you're alive!"

It suddenly seemed to sink in, and she let go of Willow to swing on Xander. 
Literally. "And you're dead! You knew! She's been alive all this time and you 
knew? You bastard, why didn't you tell me?"

"I was going to," Xander defended himself, wheezing from the fist Cordelia had 
landed in his gut. "I was about to, but she beat me to the punch. Nice timing, 
Will."

"Sorry," she apologized automatically, still trying to take in the concept. 
Cordelia -- friends with Xander. Cordelia -- happy to see her. Cordelia -- caring 
that she'd been dead.

Really caring, apparently. "Oh, and the subject just never came up for the last 
eighteen years? Every time I helped you slay icky demons things? Every 
anniversary of her 'death' that I helped you and Buffy get drunk? All that time, 
you could never figure out the words, 'By the way, Willow didn't die'?" The 
anger was starting to face from Cordelia's beautiful face, replaced by 
something like... yeah. Wow. That was hurt. "Or did you just not trust me?"

"No!" Xander yelped instantly. "No, Cordy, it had nothing to do with not 
trusting you! All the times you helped save our butts, of course we trusted you. 
It just..." He turned away, scraping his hands through his short hair, his eyes 
grim. "We didn't know where they were, or what was happening and... it hurt 
too much to talk about, to think about. So... we didn't. It wasn't you, Cordy. It 
was us. Swear to god."

Willow watched in fascination as Cordelia's righteous wrath -- the thing she'd 
always been best at -- faded into resigned, sad understanding -- which she had 
never been capable of on her best days. For a second there, she looked 
almost.... human. Real. She accepted Xander's arm around her and actually 
leaned into his shoulder for a moment, as he rested his chin on her hair.

Willow watched the pair, feeling abruptly like an intruder, like she was seeing 
something she had no part of. And she didn't, she realized with a sick, twisted 
feeling in her stomach. She'd imagined Xander alone all these years, but there'd 
been a whole lifetime between him and Cordelia that she'd had no clue about. 
That she had no place in. She wrapped her arms around her against the sudden 
chill.

The movement jolted Xander and Cordelia out of whatever communion they'd 
been in; Xander dropped his arms and Cordelia stepped away with barely a 
hesitation, smoothing her hair. "Well, I think that was today's emotional blow. 
In fact, I think that covers me emotionally for pretty much the rest of the year. 
Unless anyone's got more surprises?" she asked Xander with an arched 
eyebrow.

"Hey, this being Sunnydale and all, I'm not making any guarantees," he 
shrugged, "but I don't have anything planned. Will, want coffee?"

"Um, sure." She sat next to Cordelia as the brunette settled back onto the 
barstool with a certain amount of trepidation, but Cordelia just smiled at her, 
patting her arm with one hand. "It's... good to see you, Cordelia. You look... 
you look good."

That got her another smile, but without the smug preening that would have 
accompanied it in high school. "Thanks, Willow. Looking good is kind of in the 
job description these days -- no one wants to hire models from someone who 
doesn't *look* like a model."

"Which god knows you do," Xander contributed, his back still to them. Both 
women rolled their eyes at the blatant flattery, then grinned at each other. The 
moment of kinship started to thaw the coldness in Willow's stomach.

"So you run a modeling agency?" Willow asked, trying to keep the 
conversational ball rolling. 

"CC Inc.," Cordelia nodded with a dramatic gesture and no trace of nerves. "It's 
small, but growing, it pays the bills, and it beats the hell out of being under the 
lights myself." She gave a small shudder as she took a sip of her coffee. "Never 
again."

"I saw your cover of Vogue," Willow suddenly remembered. "We were in New 
York and saw your face on the cover and I..." Almost broke down and cried in 
the middle of the street, she managed not to say. Angel had bought the 
magazine, and they'd stared at it in silence in a coffee shop as they both 
pretended to sip their espressos. For three hours. "I was impressed," she 
finished quietly.

Another small smile and slight nod. "Thanks."

Willow cast around for a new topic and found one. "So, how long have you, 
um, been in this stuff with Xander? Slayage, I mean. I remember the Spring 
Dance, but...."

Cordelia unexpectedly smiled, a thousand watt beam that seemed to light up 
the room. "Hello, Sunnydale small talk. How did you get into demon slaying? 
What brand of holy water do you use? Who does your stakes?"

The giggle came out of nowhere. Willow certainly hadn't been expecting it, had 
had no idea it was in there, but it came bubbling up all the same. Then it grew 
into a full-fledged laugh, and Cordelia's smile turned wicked. "You know, this is 
why I moved to L.A., so I could talk to normal people."

Xander put a coffee bowl (there was no other description for it) in front of 
Willow, the liquid shaking from his snickers. "There are normal people in L.A.?"

Cordelia shrugged easily. "I'm sure there must be. Somewhere. In the Valley, 
maybe."

Willow regained something resembling control of herself and took a sip of 
coffee. Any tension in the room had vanished; she returned Cordelia's smile 
easily. "I wouldn't count on it." 

"No, I guess not," Cordelia pouted.

"If everyone's got that out of their systems," Xander said with a martyred 'see 
what I put up with' sigh, leaning against the bar, "did you need something, 
Will?"

"What? Oh, yes, I did. I was looking for the first volume of the Books of 
Ascension. I found the last three, but the first one isn't in your office."

"The Books of Ascension?" Cordelia suddenly sobered. "Oh, god, is that what 
this is about? Spike's trying to do an Ascension thing?"

"Yeah," Xander confirmed, all amusement gone from his face as well. "I just 
figured it out yesterday; that's why Will and Angel came back, too. The book's 
not in my office?" he asked Willow.

She shook her head. "Not unless you've got it hidden really well."

"No, I left it...." His face suddenly hardened and he walked around the bar, 
heading for his office. Willow slid off her barstool and followed; Cordelia 
imitated her, but stopped halfway across the room. 

"Wait," she said, confused. "Angel? You ran off with Angel? Tall gorgeous guy 
Angel?"

"I'll explain later," Willow said over her shoulder as she hurried to keep up with 
Xander.

*****

"Cece!" Nina bounced up from her seat in front of the computer as soon as she 
saw Cordelia, running over to throw her arms around her. "Xander didn't say 
you were coming! Mag!"

Cordelia hugged the teenager in turn, smiling at her with real affection. When 
Xander had first moved back to Sunnydale, she'd had no intention of getting 
involved with his new potential Slayer, especially not once Nina had been 
Called. But the girl was impossible to resist, and the hero worship that shone 
from her eyes whenever she saw Cordelia made it even harder. Cordelia just 
prayed she was worthy of half of that worship. "The divorce went through this 
morning; I wanted you guys to keep me company, but it looks like you're 
going to keep me busy instead."

Nina made a face. "Yeah, this Ascension thing looks like it's going to rag, in big 
ways. But Xander'll figure it out."

"Thanks for the confidence," Xander said absently, poking through the piles of 
books and paper that had taken over his desk the second he'd moved in, and 
showed no signs of abating. Cordelia was pretty sure there were things under 
there that were going to take on intelligent life pretty soon, but Xander didn't 
believe in cleaning anywhere the Health Department didn't check.

"No sweat, Teach." Nina looked Cordelia up and down, and nodded. "You don't 
look like the court thing did any permanent damage; John-Louey gone for 
good now?"

"Yes, thank god."

"You gonna make me be a bridesmaid again any time soon?"

"Over my dead body."

"Works." Nina nodded in approval. "What'd you bring me?"

"Nina..." Xander pulled the word out in long-suffering exasperation without 
looking around. Willow seemed to be watching the byplay with amusement, 
and a cool reserve that surprised Cordelia; the Willow she remembered could 
never....

She buried the train of thought and laughed, throwing her arm around Nina's 
shoulders. "There might be one or two dust cloths in the car;  you know, 
castoffs, that kind of thing. You can play dress-up after patrol, then come back 
here and show off. The boys are gonna die."

"Deeply mag. What're you looking for, Teach?"

"Volume one of the books of Ascension." Xander straightened and shoved his 
hand through his hair in frustration, glaring at the desk as if he could make it 
cough up the missing book by force of displeasure alone. "Damn it, I'm sure I 
left it right on top here. I just saw it last night, right before we opened. It was 
on top of the Maledictus, Lori came in, I shoved the supply records over, here's 
the Maledictus.... No volume one. Nina, you're sure you didn't move 
anything?"

Nina raised one hand. "Scout's honor; the only thing I touched was the 
computer. Didn't even have to hit the light switch."

Xander turned around. "The lights were on when you came in?"

"Yeah. The door was open... too...." He voice trailed off as she looked at her 
Watcher; the teenager disappeared in one breath, to be replaced by the Slayer. 
"Son of a bitch. Someone came in and stole it."

"Watch the swearing," Cordelia told her automatically, as Xander swore, 
"Goddammit! I locked that door last night and turned out the lights. They must 
have waltzed right in here and taken off with it. Damn it to hell!"

"But they left the other three!" Willow objected. "Why take just one?"

Xander shrugged, running his fingers through his hair in frustration. "I don't 
know; I don't read what passes as Spike's mind. They weren't with the first 
one, maybe the vamps had a time limit and couldn't find them. Damn it!" he 
swore again, suddenly. "*That's* why those vamps have been hanging around 
the high school library. Spike thought we might have hidden the books there!"

"Wait, wait, wait." Cordelia held up her hands, a dam of sanity against the sea 
of incipient hysteria. "Look, are you sure you had it here? Maybe you took it 
home...?"

Xander was already shaking his head. "No, I didn't come back in here in after 
opening last night; I bailed out to go chase Weird Guys with Nina and didn't 
make it back to the Bronze until this afternoon."

"Lori or Danny?"

Another headshake. "Don't have the keys; they leave the records and receipts 
in the safe in the kitchen."

Okay. This was bad. Cordelia's arm tightened around Nina's shoulders; the 
Slayer didn't seem to notice. "So how bad is it?"

Xander's jaw was clenched, his hand rubbing against his thigh in a rhythmic, 
nervous pattern. "Not good. If Spike's got the book, he's got what he needs. 
Damn. I assumed he already had what he needed, I didn't even think to take 
the books home, where he couldn't get to them."

His guilt and rage were palpable; Cordelia started to go to him -- but Willow 
was already beside there. "You didn't know," she said comfortingly, rubbing his 
shoulder. "And if you had taken them home, he would have hired a demon or 
something that doesn't need to be invited to do it for him. We just have to get 
it back, or get another copy, so we'll know what we're up against."

He was silent for a long second, mustering his control, but finally looked back 
up. "Right. Right. You're right. Luckily, we know where there's another copy. 
Neen?"

"On it." Nina slipped from under Cordelia's arm to sit again in front of the 
computer. "I'll email Aunt Jenny and get her to download the CD-ROM version 
to her FTP site. If it's too big, she can overnight it."

"Okay," Xander nodded. "Will, you and I are going to sit down with Angel as 
soon as he gets here, and go over every single thing was know about the ritual. 
Damn. After I open."

"Right," Willow nodded, beginning to sort through papers. "That should give us 
something to work with until we get the book. CD-ROM?"

Xander grinned crookedly. "Jenny won the fight about the scanner. All those 
moldy old books are moldy old bytes now. No demons allowed."

Willow laughed, Xander's grin widened and Cordelia didn't get the joke. "I'll go 
get the coffee," she said calmly, turning to leave the room. Already digging on 
the shelves for books, no one appeared to notice.

*******
*******

And that's it, folks; for the rest.... write your own ending. ;)

PKS
02/11/04